You Look At Me, But You Don't See Me
by Kerri B
Summary: An innocent statement becomes Dean’s worst nightmare. Changed in a way he’d never expected, Dean takes off. Sam waits for Dean’s promised return only to find that what he was looking for was in front of him the whole time.
1. Chapter 1

Title: You're Looking At Me, But You Don't See Me

Author: Kerri B.

Rating: T

Disclaimer: Sadly, owning Sam, Dean, Jensen or Jared, is not something I can be thankful for this Thanksgiving. Oh well. There's always Christmas. . . But until then: Supernatural is still not mine.

Summary: An innocent statement becomes Dean's worst nightmare. Changed in a way he'd never expected, Dean takes off. Sam waits for Dean's promised return only to find that what he was looking for was in front of him the whole time.

Timeline: set Season Three, after The Kids Are All Right but before Bad Day At Black Rock, so everything before that is fair game to spoilers.

**AN**: I've had this story in my head for too long and really needed to get it written out so that I could stop thinking about it. I'm mostly focused on writing my Doppelganger story, so this one might be slow with updates. The good news is that the entire story is written in my head from beginning to middle to end. I just need to sit down and actually write it all down. The beginning of this chapter is pretty rough so please hang on to the end of it before you dismiss the story

**Chapter One**

**Good Intentions Always Backfire**

_It wasn't my fault._

_Seriously._

_Not. My. Fault._

_First off, is it too much to ask for people to mean what they say? Comon, how can anyone -not just myself- follow along if the person talking isn't shooting straight?_

_I guess I get why he was having problems in the first place..._

_Now, I know he probably lays all the blame at my feet but he should really take some of the credit for what happened._

_I was trying to help. The problem is, I made some...assumptions -and we all know what assume stands for._

_Yes, I've made other mistakes over my long life, but this certainly takes the cake._

_In hindsight, it's so easy to see where I went wrong. First, as I already said, I made inaccurate suppositions. But it was the second thing that was my critical, and possibly fatal, error._

_I messed with a Winchester._

Trey POV

The moment he laid eyes on the two men sitting in the corner of the crowded bar he could almost literally see the tension radiating off them. While he couldn't hear what they were saying, it was obvious they were arguing.

He'd noticed them when they'd first walked into the Kountry Bar earlier that evening. He turned around and asked the bartender, Jeff, if he knew them. "Never seen 'em before, Trey." he'd been told. "But Mary said there were a couple of reporters in town investigating the Perry deaths. Might be them."

His interest piqued, Trey watched them as they sat in an almost hidden corner and started talking in hushed tones, despite the noise of the bar.

Years of living had made Trey a good judge of character, and he could say with almost no doubts that they weren't reporters.

A while later one of them, a blonde with a cocky bounce in his step, left to get a drink. He was soon distracted by a buxom red-head, who zeroed in on the newcomer at first sight.

His attention moved to the tall brunette that was still sitting at the table. The man was watching his partner with irritation and... worry.

When the blonde finally returned to his seat, brunette said something that immediately made the other glare at him. From there it digressed into the heated conversation Trey was witnessing now.

Finally the taller man threw his hands up the air and got out of his seat to glower down at the blonde sitting coolly across from him. The man raised his voice loud enough so that even Trey could hear,

"Fine, don't talk to me. If fact, why don't we just stop talking to each other at all. I'm sure that'll help solve our problems." He turned around and left the bar like a dark cloud.

The blonde sat there silently for a long time, his gaze distant and closed off, before he got up and went up to sit at the bar.

Hesitating only a moment, Trey moved and sat next to him.

After a few drinks, he finally looked over at the man staring broodingly at the shot glass in his hand. "Girl problems?" He asked.

Turning the man snorted, "Sort of. More like brother problems."

"Names Trey," he said.

"Dean," the stranger answered, also omitting a last name.

"Your brother the guy yelling at you back there?"

"That would be him." Dean agreed.

Now that Trey had a chance to really look at Dean he noticed immediately the weary lines creasing his forehead, and the way he slumped over his drink seemed to imitate Atlas holding the world on his shoulders.

"So, what happened?" Trey asked cautiously.

"If you don't mind," Dean said gruffly. "I'd rather keep it to myself."

Trey nodded amicably and turned back to his drink, though his thoughts remained on the man beside him. Since the two brothers had entered the bar, he had noticed a character difference in them right away. While this man, Dean, had acted care-free with a 'don't give a crap what you think' attitude, his brother, the brunet, seemed more reserved, quiet, and - if he trusted instinct - scared. And now that the brother was gone, Trey watched the near instant transformation in the dirty blond, as he changed from flirty and dangerous to worried and dejected.

"I don't get what he wants from me." Dean suddenly blurted out, causing Trey to slightly jump in his seat. He turned once again to face the frowning man.

"What?" Trey asked, unsure if he actually heard him speak, or if he just wished he did.

"I just don't know what he wants." The man reiterated. "Or maybe it's not that I don't know, it's that I can't give him what he wants. I mean, I'm here if it's something serious, but. . ."

"But what?"

"But that's not good enough for him." Dean said quietly. "He wants to. . . talk. He wants to care, share, and. . . and cry!" The last was said with a trace of disgust.

"So?" Trey encouraged.

"I can't do those things." Dean bemoaned, scowling at his drink.

"Why not?"

Dean looked up, "Because I can't. I'm just not wired that way."

"What guy is?"

"Sam is." Dean mumbled.

Trey frowned for a minute, the two names: Sam and Dean- striking a feeling of something he felt he should remember, but shrugged it off as paranoia. "You wish he wasn't?""

"I don't know. Maybe." Dean took a deep swig of his amber colored drink and banged the glass down on the bar counter before shaking his head with trepidation.

"He and I... we've had a rough year, more like years really. One thing after another, it just kept piling up. It seems that every day was bringing something to add to our misery. I guess we ended up just working to survive it all, never really dealing with any of it. And now it's all caught up with him. So he wants to fix everything and he just doesn't see that he can't. And I know it's hurting him that I keep shutting him out.

And I want to talk, but can't. Because he can't handle the truth. He says he wants me to tell him what's going on with me, but when I even_ try_ he freaks out." Now that Trey had got him talking, it was as if whatever secrets lay under the man's tough exterior couldn't remain silenced and were bleeding out.

"I've told him I'm tired. Of this life, of not knowing where I'll be next week. I just want it all to end. But I can't stop because people are counting on us. On me. And so is he. He looks up to me and I can't let him down. Not again. If he knew everything, if I let him know how close I am to just falling apart..." Dean broke off and cleared his throat.

Trey couldn't think of anything to say. Instead he waited. Finally the other man quietly began speaking again. "The kid needs to toughen up. Get past denial and let things go."

"Sounds like this sort of thing happens a lot." Trey observed.

Dean stiffly turned towards Trey and blinked twice before nodding. "Well you're right. Anytime something happens that doesn't fit into Sammy's 'World of Perfection' he turns it into a problem that would require Oprah and that Phil guy to figure out and set to right. He expects me to do the same thing but I just. . .well, I can't. I just don't get the kid."

"Do you want to? Relate to him, that is." Trey asked slowly, signaling Jeff over and holding up the appropriate amount of fingers for two more shots. This guy sounded like he could really use some help, and lucky for him, Trey was just the guy who could.

Dean gave a small smile. "Yeah. I really wish I could."

Inside, Trey was delighted. It wasn't often that he ran across a chance to really help somebody. Well, somebody who wasn't an annoying selfish bastard anyway. So not often. Jeff poured the drinks and Trey gave him a ten. Thirteen seconds later and Dean was holding the shot glass.

Had Dean been paying attention, he would have noticed that when Trey handed the bartender the money, he fingered the ring sitting subtly on his hand and cut his thumb on a small sharp spoke sticking out from the center. Carefully, Trey had waited for a small drop of the shimmering crimson blood to fall into Dean's drink and dissolve before handing it over.

"Thanks." Dean said, visibly cheering up from his earlier gloom at the friendly gesture but before he had a chance to take a sip, Trey quickly said:

"So, about, you know, relating to your brother and stuff. Any idea on how that could happen?" He waited, knowing that with his power and the tie of the blood now in the man's drink, whatever Dean said next related to this subject would come to pass. It was the best way he could help. No sense in assuming you know what is best for somebody when they can say it themselves. . .

Dean paused and thought for a second before shaking his head. "Like I said, understanding Sam would be great. It would save me from thousands of one sided arguments for sure,"

Trey waited, waited for the words that would help bring the brothers closer together, with only him to thank.

"But honestly, I don't think it's ever going to happen," Dean continued, "The chick-flick moment he wants will happen the day I turn into a girl."

Trey felt his blood freeze, figuratively, and mouth drop open in silent horror as Dean lifted his shot and tapped it against Trey's, before bringing it to his lips and downing in one gulp what was now enchanted blood and alcoholic.

He knew the moment Dean's answer was sealed when he felt his grey eyes burn bright in an immediate glow. Trey almost lost his grip on the glass in his hand.

A girl?

_A girl?_

Eyes back to normal, he stared at Dean in shock. But when Dean looked over at him with a small smirk, he quickly masked the reaction. He gave a small laugh, "That's the best you could come up with? You have serious problems, my friend."

"You have no idea," Dean returned.

_And I'm pretty sure you have no idea what you just got yourself into_, Trey thought. This had most definitely not gone like Trey had planned. Obviously he hadn't thought this whole thing through. Honestly, who would have thought that _this_ would be the man's first solution. Of all the things Trey imagined this man would say, that was not it. He could have said something like them finding a common interest, or even something drastic like one instantly becoming tougher or more sensitive. Not changing gender! This- this was bad.

Dean was grinning when he lowered the glass to the counter and saw Trey's face. "Dude, you okay? It was a joke. Seriously, I like being a guy."

"Hm? Oh, right." Trey slowly worked his jaw till words came out. "Right. I know that. A girl." He gave a weak laugh. "Wouldn't that be funny though?" It ended up coming out more as hopeful than questioning.

Dean cocked his head to the side. "Meh, probably not."

_Dammit._ Grimacing, Trey turned back to the untouched drink in his hand.

Watching Dean out of the corner of his eye he waited. It took a few moments before anything happened. If Trey hadn't been looking for it he probably would have missed the subtle shaking that began in the other man's hands then slowly picked up intensity, working up the arms.

- - -supernatural- - -

_The Winchester name has come in and out of 'office' talk for twenty some years, but it's these last two years that it's been the buzz of the watercooler. Most of it has centered on the youngest of the Winchester men, Samuel, and what a high ranking demon wanted with him. I however have been more interested in what I've heard of Sam's older brother, Dean._

_First off, no supernatural entity of any kind would ever want Dean on their ass. He's a lethal hunter whose spent his entire life since age four waging the war against evil. Dean might not have exceeded his father, John, with the unforgiving, relentless vengeance part, but more than made up for it with a fierce determination to save others from having to see the darkness that exists in this world._

_But it's the newest tidbit I heard from one my cousins - a Trickster-, who found out from a Reaper, who talked to a low-raking demon spawn... you know how gossip gets around. Anyway, Dean has earned a respect from me that I rarely give a hunter._

_Apparently all the new demon activity which I've been observing with distaste is the result of the Winchester brothers final battle with ol' Yellow Eyes himself. While I'm cheering the utter destruction of the demon lord -ding dong the sonuvabitch is dead- I'm NOT at all happy that more of the black-eyed SOB demons are running around._

_Freakin black-eyed nuisances!_

_While 'supernatural' doesn't mean evil necessarily, I willingly admit that I'm in the minority of 'non-human-harming' beings that currently inhabit this plane of existence._

_And what am I exactly? Personally I prefer to describe myself as part Trickster, part Djinn, and part pure fun._

_Unlike Tricksters, I don't go around and use my 'talents' for my amusement, playing malicious games with humans. And unlike Djinns I don't create alternate realities in their head -not to mention the whole blood drinking thing..._

_But now I've gotten completely off track. Back to Dean Winchester and my stupid mistake involving him..._

Dean POV

Honestly, Dean didn't know why he was talking to this guy. Maybe it was because Trey seemed genuinely friendly, and it had been a while since he'd come across someone that gave a crap about someone else.

He'd intended to just ignore Trey and drown in his own misery, but then his mouth just wouldn't stay shut.

"I've told him I'm tired. Of this life, of not knowing where I'll be next week. I just want it all to end. But I can't stop because people are counting on us. On me. And so is he. He looks up to me and I can't let him down. Not again. If he knew everything, if I let him know how close I am to just falling apart..."

He hadn't meant to say as much as he had, Dean could almost kick himself for revealing so much to a complete stranger. Clearing his throat he finished. "The kid needs to toughen up. Get past denial and let things go." _Let me go._

"Sounds like this sort of thing happens a lot." Trey said.

Glad that at least the other man wasn't looking at him like he was pathetic- a look he'd been given too often, he jumped on the statement. "Well you're right. Anytime something happens that doesn't fit into Sammy's 'World of Perfection' he turns it into a problem that would require Oprah and that Phil guy to figure out and set to right. He expects me to do the same thing but I just. . .well, I can't. I just don't get the kid."

"Do you want to? Relate to him, that is."

Of course he did. Didn't he? Him and Sam were brothers and they knew pretty much everything about each other, but sometimes Dean was sure that there were just some things that they would never able to understand about the other.

Like why Dean had sold his soul. Like why Sam couldn't accept what was going to happen in a year.

It wasn't ever going to happen, but Dean truly wished there was a way...

"Yeah. I really wish I could." he admitted, feeling almost silly that he was confiding this to someone he'd never met before a few minutes earlier.

Trey just smiled and handed him a shot. "So, about, you know, relating to your brother and stuff. Any idea on how that could happen?"

_How about when hell freezes over._ Dean thought, but refrained since the guy was just trying to help. But Dean had already tried to find some way to get his brother to understand why he'd done what he did. Nothing had worked so far.

"Like I said, understanding Sam would be great. It would save me from thousands of one sided arguments for sure," he began. "But honestly, I don't think it's ever going to happen. The chick-flick moment he wants will happen the day I turn into a girl." Bringing the shot up he clinked it against Trey's and took a large gulp.

"That's the best you could come up with? You have serious problems, my friend." Trey laughed.

Dean smiled. "You have no idea."

Nope, there was just no way. Sam was never going to get what had made Dean give up everything for him. And Dean sure wasn't understanding why Sam couldn't see that he was never going to be free of his crossroads deal. Both of them would have to just deal with it.

_Like you did tonight?_ The irritating voice in his head, sounding suspiciously like Sam, asked. Damn, it always talked to him at the most inconvenient times.

Looking over at Trey he noticed the guy was looking at him with a weird expression on his face. "Dude, you okay? It was a joke. Seriously, I like being a guy."

"Hm? Oh, right. Right. I know that. A girl. Wouldn't that be funny though?"

Considering it, Dean tilted his head, trying to imagine what him as a girl would look like. Unable to come up with anything that would translate his sheer sexiness he finally shook his head. "Meh, probably not."

Still, the idea was sort of funny. Dean began trying to picture Sam as a girl, inwardly grinning.

Lost in thought he barely noticed when the tremors started in his limbs. It wasn't until he felt the sharp pain in his leg, the mother of all muscle cramps, that he realized something was wrong.

"Shit," Raising the trembling hand, he rubbed eyes that suddenly had become blurry. _Got to get out of here_, he thought dizzily.

Muttering something - probably incomprehensible - to Trey he got off the bar stool and stumbled his way to the men's bathroom in the back.

Den pushed the door open and nearly ran to the first stall. The first wave of nausea hit him just as he fell to his knees and leaned over the porcelain toilet.

It seemed like hours before he finished retching, even though it was probably closer to minutes, but finally he felt it was safe to raise his head. Wiping his mouth with his shaking hand Dean realized there was no way he was going to be standing up, not with his head spinning fast enough put laps on a Top.

Shit. This was just what he needed to make this day even crappier.

Reaching for the cellphone in his pocket, he brought it out and tried to read the screen through bleary eyes. Dean scrolled down his contacts list until he finally found Sam's name. He started to push the Call button when he hesitated.

Sam was just going to love this. After his storm off from the bar earlier, his younger brother was not going to be sympathetic to Dean's misery.

His pause cost him making a decision as the leg cramp from earlier returned, this time bringing friends.

Dean groaned as his entire body felt like it had been stabbed with hundreds of hot pokers. The phone dropped from a hand that jerked painfully.

Curling in on himself, Dean clenched his jaw trying to ride out the pain.

But it only became worse. It wasn't long before he seemed to lose control of his entire body. It jerked and writhed, even his head felt like it was on fire. He wanted to scream, but found that he couldn't. His world narrowed down until it was consumed only by agony.

Finally, mercifully, he felt himself fall into blissful darkness

- - -supernatural- - -

_It wasn't the fact that Dean and Sam managed to kill their arch-nemesis that surprised me. It was that Sam was alive. This came as a mild shock since, as far as I knew, he was dead._

_The talk was that a whole bunch of 1983 kids had up and disappeared over the last few months. Sure, people vanish without a trace all the time. But how many of them can electrocute another person with one touch?_

_Admittedly I've known a few dozen over the centuries, but it isn't that common. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Telekinesis, Visions, Persuasion, Super-Strength...the list goes on. Think Heroes and X-Men- except it's real._

_The sad part is that despite these amazing abilities, all those kids had no chance of survival. Brought together in small groups at a time, the newly dubbed 'special children' were forced to fight for their lives. The winner's prize? To be named the leader of a demonic legion. _

_According to ratings this twisted version of Survivor - Death Match Style- beat America's Next Top Model for demonic viewing by a landslide. Just shows how far the supernatural community had fallen. As for me, I've always had a suspicion Tyra Banks is demon-possessed, but I have yet to get close enough to Christo her._

_Even though I never took an active part in the drama unfolding in Cold Oak, I kept tabs on the current winners. Ava Wilson was the favorite for the longest time, but then came word that in a shocking 'finale' a soldier named Jake was crowned Next Demon Leader. This made many furious since most had money and souls on either Ava or Samuel, according to my Trickster cousin who is also quite the bookie. Not that any of this is important now._

_The point is Jake won, all the other special children were dead, including Sam Winchester._

Trey POV

Still sitting Trey waited until Dean had disappeared in the door marked 'men's' before banging his head against the bar counter three times hard.

Oh shit. What was he supposed to do?

Face him?

Run?

Run. Running sounded good.

But how could he leave this guy to a fate like that without some sort of explanation?

Trey barely registered when the red-head who'd been all over Dean earlier came over and sat down next to him.

She was talking to him, asking him something. Probably wanted to know where Dean was, he thought. Not quite ready to talk, he shrugged noncommitedly and she left with a huff of irritation.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have used the blood binding spell without knowing what the man was going to say? Something like turning into a girl!

The internal battle that had been raging inside his head for the last few minutes was brought to a halt when a loud screeching pierced through the music and normal sounds of the bar. People nearest the noise looked over at the bathrooms, where the sound was coming from, startled by the high pitched shriek. After a few moments the sounds died down.

Trey saw Jeff begin to make his way to investigate.

Decision made, he downed the shot in front of him and got up. Cutting off Jeff, he tilted his head and signaled he'd check it out.

Preparing himself for the inevitable sight, Trey pushed open the door.

He found Dean in the center of the small room, staring in the grimy mirror in front of him.

Trey hesitated a moment, unsure of what to do now that he was faced with the consequences of his lapse of judgement.

Dean spun around, expression filled with horror, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!"

Shit. Running had probably been the better idea.

- - -supernatural- - -

_For most people, dead is dead. There's no coming back from it._

_Not so much for those that know anything about the supernatural underworld. Unfortunately there are ways to get around the whole dead thing. Of course, it always has a price. A very steep price._

_It never ceases to amaze me what people will give for their own success and happiness. Their greediness and obsession with the here and now has tarnished my view of humanity in general._

_But then some go and show that there is some hope for them yet. They aren't after their own selfish desires, they put others before themselves more times than not._

_Such is the case of Dean Winchester. _

_Taking a page from his fathers book, he did the unthinkable. Summoning a crossroads demon he made a deal with the red-eyed bitch. Sam's return to the land of the living in exchange for the only thing Dean had left to offer. His soul._

_I realize many won't understand how much of a sacrifice this is, but I know full well._

_It's not death that should be feared, it's what comes after. I know Reapers love to talk about the wonderful 'mystery' of what lies beyond but here are the cold hard facts: there are two ways you go - up or down. There's not need to go into what up means. It's down that should concern you._

_Down is...hell. In most cases it should be enough to know you don't want to visit, much less spend eternity there. The fact that Hell's welcoming committee comes bearing whips and enough torture devices to put the Inquisition to shame should scare the bejeesus out of anyone._

_And Dean signed up for this by his own choice, knowing better than most anyone what it would mean._

_Centuries of observation have led me to believe that people truly don't realize how much their actions reflect their souls. Everything they do, everything they say or don't, it all shows what's in their soul: their spirit, their thoughts, emotions, and aspirations. It shows the ugliness and the beauty._

Dean POV

The first thing Dean became aware of was the feel of something soft and silky that was laying on his face. He brought up a hand and tried to brush it away but his hands seemed to get caught in whatever it was.

Groaning he opened his eyes. It took a few moments for his still foggy mind to comprehend what his hands had encountered.

Strands of dark blonde hair fell over his face and were entangled in his fingers. _What the hell?_

Dean frowned at the sight before groaning at the pain that tried to split his head in two. Oh great, how much had he drunk to be in this kind of misery?

Looking up he stared at the ceiling in an attempt to grounding himself while everything tried to imitate a merry-go-round. When he felt it was safe he let his eyes roam, trying to figure out his surroundings.

He was surprised to realize he was laying on the floor of a very dirty bathroom stall. How the hell had that happened?

Slowly, all the pieces that made up the night came together in his head. Coming to the bar, arguing with Sam, talking to Trey, passing out on the floor... _It's just been a fun night so far_, he thought sarcastically.

Dean cautiously pushed himself up, using the toilet for support. Everything spun around briefly before coming back into focus. He leaned against the wall on the left, his head tilted down. The thick blonde tresses he'd discovered earlier were brushing against his cheeks, trying to fall into his eyes.

Once again he touched them, willing to make sense of it somewhere in his tired brain. He got nothing. Dean sighed and rubbed his face with his right hand. Halfway down his face, he stilled as his mind registered that something felt...different. Pulling the hand away, Dean stared down at it.

Yes, it was definitely a hand. But it wasn't _his_ hand. He should know...after all he knew the back of his hand like... well, the back of his hand. The hand he was staring at was too small, the fingers slender tipped by nails far too long. Dangling loosely around the fourth finger was a silver ring. His ring, but clearly not _his_ finger.

He pushed off the wall almost frantically, needing to confirm the horrible thought that had been planted in his head.

Dean staggered out of the stall and made his way to the mirror that hung on the wall. Confused, and even though he'd never admit it, a little frightened, Dean felt his heart beating faster than was healthy.

In front of the mirror he paused, head down, unable to find the will to face what he might see. Maybe he really didn't want to know. The desire to go back into the stall and back to that quiet place where he didn't have to face reality was overwhelming.

_Pull yourself together soldier_. This time the voice was John's, commanding and brooking no argument. _Face it like a man_.

Taking a deep breathe, Dean obeyed and raised his eyes to meet the ones in the mirror. For a moment there was almost complete silence in the small room, the sounds of the bar outside the only thing to be heard. Then it was abruptly pierced by a loud shriek that rapidly reverberated against the walls, letting it carry outside so that all could hear.

It took Dean a moment to realize that he was the one making the sound before it tapered off into a mournful wail. The green eyes looking at him were becoming wider by the second, taking in the image in front of him.

Blonde hair, longer than he'd ever allowed it to grow, fell down just past his shoulders. The black shirt, the one that normally fit him perfectly, showing off his impressive physique, was now loosely draped over shoulders that were no longer broad.

Dean's pant were also loose. They were only staying up because of the curvy hips that he now owned. Unable to keep looking_ there_, he moved his gaze up to what should have been his face.

Delicate features, pouting lips. God, his eyes were the only thing Dean recognized in the face opposite him. And even they looked different framed by the thick long - frickin' feminine- eyelashes.

He was looking at a stranger.

He was looking at a girl.

His breath began coming out in short gasps, and distantly Dean realized he was hyperventilating.

The sound of the door opening had him turning to see the man he'd been talking to him before everything had gone to hell.

Click. The pieces were suddenly fit together in Dean's head.

He had done this. He had turned Dean into...into a GIRL!

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!"

Trey's mouth opened but nothing came out.

"Oh, man, " Horror turned to fury as Dean's eyes narrowed dangerously, "You messed with the wrong Winchester."

- - -supernatural- - -

_But all this brings me down to what I originally meant to say. I knew the Winchester name, I knew the stories and rumors surrounding it. The one thing I didn't know is what one looked like. _

_Unfortunately, I do now. And this particular Winchester is pretty pissed at me right now._

_Which leads me back to my first statement._

_It wasn't my fault._

AN: Okay, whatcha think? I'm not really happy with the beginning...I hate first chapters cause it always takes a while for me to get everything to flow right. I promise the next one will be much better.

If you didn't figure it out already, all 1st person parts are from Trey's POV. Also, Trey isn't a bad guy, just someone trying to help. It was my fault the plan backfired, not his. Lol. I plan on keeping him around. Kinda like... (is it weird the first analogy that comes to mind is Jiminy Crickett and Pinocchio - I blame it on too much time as a child wasted on Disney movies) anyway he's the guide that helps the victim (aka girl!Dean) along to the right path.

And I'm sorry Sam isn't in the first chapter, but we will be seeing him soon.

Despite the humor of the idea, I actually plan on this being a really angsty story. I figure the only way to get Dean and Sam to talk is for something extreme to happen. I'm pretty sure turning Dean into a girl is extreme. Right?

So be prepared for a lot of emotional baggage from AHBL and Dean's deal along with the funny.

As for what girl!Dean looks like, I'll leave that up to the readers imagination for now. Suggestions are welcome if anyone has a picture or an actress in mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Beginning Note: Hey-oh peeps! Sorry for the long wait for an update, but I'm hoping this chapter is good enough to be worth it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed this story and for all your positive feedback. And a special shout-out to psiChic for now following not just one, but two of my stories, and for also being so amazingly patient for my soon to be posted sequel to 'Doppelganger'. Luv ya girl!

Chapter Two

It's All Fun and Games Until Someone Turns Into A Girl

Trey had known before pushing open the door that he wasn't going to be received well. But he'd expected to be dealing with a freaked out guy-turned-gal who wouldn't have a clue how this could have happened. Instead he was facing a pissed-off and lethal man-turned-woman who looked prepared to murder him with his/her bare hands.

"You messed with the wrong Winchester." Dean's eyes bored into his own, promising a long painful death.

_Shit. Did he just say Winchester? _And here Trey'd been wondering how this could get any worse. In all his years, his many years, he couldn't think of a time he'd messed up a blood spell this much. Nothing like getting on the bad side of a hunter to say you're completely screwed.

Instead of his life flashing before his eyes, not that he believed in that sort of thing, he began an inner monologue in his head, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong. He wished he had a pen and paper, since they might well be his last thoughts.

His self-reflection was interrupted when Dean started toward him, fists clenched in a way that suggested bodily harm would be happening unless he said something. And even if this Winchester was a good six inches shorter than he had been earlier that evening, Trey wasn't stupid enough to think the girl was any less of a threat than the man would be. So he said the first thing that came to mind.

"It wasn't my fault!" A beat of complete silence followed, during which Trey wanted to hit his head against the wall. That was just stupid. Of course it was his fault, at least partially if not mostly. Dean had just been talking to a stranger, not having the slightest clue what Trey was planning.

Dean wasn't buying his weak attempt at an excuse either. The hunter stopped his movement and stared at him incredulously, "Are you freaking kidding. Look at me!" Dean swept his hand over his new body. "I sure as hell didn't do this!"

It wasn't until then that Trey had actually taken the time to really notice the change. The 6'1" sturdily built man he'd met in the bar was gone. The now to large clothes hung over a smaller frame, thankfully hiding parts he didn't want to dwell too much on. His hair was the same dirty blonde color but looked completely different with thick long strands that seemed determined to fall in his green eyes. Dean reached up and brushed them back behind his ears with palpable irritation.

'She' was essentially was a smaller, more delicate, and definitely -wince- more curvy version of the man. In all honesty, if he had thought she was just an ordinary woman, Trey would have described her as drop-dead gorgeous, but there was no way in hell he would ever say that out loud.

It was in that moment that the absolute _ridiculousness_ of the situation hit Trey like a ton of bricks. He was looking at a girl who really was a guy who was also a hunter because he had asked a question without thinking through all the possible answers he might be given. And now he was about to die at the hand of said girl/guy/hunter all because he hadn't had the presence of mind to make sure the answer was going to be in the realm of reason. And there was nothing he could do to change that. It really was funny when he stopped to think about it. So damn funny that he laughed. Albeit an hysterical, ohgodimabouttodie kind and if he dwelt on it, the laugh was closer to what could only be described as a giggle.

_Oh for the love of god, shut up._ He told himself. _You're only digging the grave deeper_. Yes he might be a 'supernatural' being, but he didn't fool himself into thinking that he was invulnerable. Truth be told for an immortal he was pretty easy to kill.

In the end it was Winchester who silenced him. With his fist.

Even as a girl the hunter had a damn wicked right hook.

- - - supernatural - - -

Earlier that evening-

It didn't take long before Sam decided that Dean didn't need, or probably want, him around. It was a sad irony since it had been Sam himself who had suggested they come to the Kountry Bar. He'd hoped that a more relaxed setting would help relieve the tension that had been ever increasing between him and his brother. He'd _hoped_ that they could try talking about something other than a hunt for longer than two seconds.

His plans were quickly dashed when Dean immediately disengaged himself from Sam's presence within minutes of entering the bar. Instead of a long-needed conversation about what was going on with Dean and his recklessness and lack of communication, the deal with the crossroads demon, Ruby being a demon with the potential to help, and even Sam and his newfound knowledge he possessed demon blood, Sam was left sitting alone.

Frustration, irritation and worry all warred within him as he watched Dean begin the familiar motions of flirting with the first female he came in contact with. This was not going at all like he'd wanted it to.

By the time Dean finally came back, the youngest Winchester knew tonight was a lost cause. There would be no talking, or anything coming close to the 'chick flick' moments that his brother dreaded.

"Dean, I'm going to head back to our room," Sam said with barely concealed disappointment.

"Uhhuh..."

"Dean." Annoyance replaced disappointment. If Dean wouldn't talk to him, the least he could do was listen when Sam was speaking to him.

Turning his attention away from the flirtatious red head he was watching across the bar, Dean grinned at him, "I heard you. I know how much you need your beauty sleep, princess. I'll catch up with you later."

Even though his back was again turned Dean must have instinctively known Sam was giving him a pissed off glare. He reluctantly faced his brother again. "What?"

"I thought we'd already talked about this, Dean. You can't spend every moment partying."

"Comeon Sam, give me a break. We've been working this hunt for a week. Weren't you the one that said we should take a break and relax.? Are you really going to begrudge a guy even a little fun during the one year he has left?"

Sam had promised himself weeks earlier that he wasn't going to let Dean's cavalier attitude get to him. But his brother just wouldn't let up. Damnit, couldn't Dean lay off the dying jokes for just one night? It was like he was taunting Sam. _See, I'm still dying here, you haven't saved me yet; and you never will_. "I gave into your 'dying wish' to visit your old flame, Lisa. That was your last one. You've spent months 'celebrating'. And while we're on this subject, I'm tired of this Dean."

"Tired of what?" Blank look.

"Of having you joke about you dying in a year. You acting like you don't care that you're going to hell."

Comprehension and grin, "What can I say? I'm a realist. And you, my brother, are living in a world of denial."

"I'm in denial?" Sam gaped. That was just the straw that broke the camels back. He opened his mouth again to begin what he knew was going was going to the start of another argument but before Sam could start his brother interrupted.

"Do we have to talk about this now, Sam?" Dean asked tiredly, his smirk slipping for a moment before it returned, "I promised Cherry over there I wouldn't be long and you're liable to go on for hours."

Sam's shoulder slumped slightly in defeat. He just couldn't seem to reach Dean anymore these days. It was fine that Dean talked about his death but if Sam tried to broach the subject he was shut out. Sometimes Sam could swear the _snick_ of a lock turning was almost audible. Recognizing this conversation as a lost cause, and now too drained and tired to care he stood up. Sam angrily glared down at Dean who just tilted his head up defiantly. "Fine, don't talk to me. If fact, why don't we just stop talking to each other at all. I'm sure that'll help solve all our problems."

Sam turned and walked out.

If he'd looked back he would have seen that instead of rejoining the red-head, Dean purposely ignored her and sat down on the other side of the bar. But he didn't look and Sam was long gone by the time the stranger with grey eyes joined his brother.

- - - supernatural - - -

Sam walked- or more accurately, stormed- into the room the Winchester brothers had made their temporary HQ during the last week. While he managed to restrain himself from slamming the door shut, he tossed the door key onto the nearest table with a little more force than was called for. It skittered across the top and almost fell off, but managed to hang on, half dangling.

Hanging by a thread, just like Sam's faith and belief that he could save Dean.

A lot of good all that faith had done him, he thought as he angrily shrugged off his jacket and draped it over a chair.

He'd spent weeks researching, all free hours had been devoted to pouring over books and scouring the internet for anything he could find that could help and what did Sam have to show for it? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Squat. And now that Dean had banned anymore looking for a way out of the deal he'd been reduced to hiding all his efforts, going behind his brothers back.

All his initial optimism and confidence that he would find a loophole had pretty much died soon after their run-in with the seven deadly sins, even though Sam had stubbornly refused to acknowledge it. He'd continued searching, calling Bobby at ungodly hours to see if the man had been able to find anything. But the enthusiasm and self-assurance had vanished. Then Ruby had come along and revived the dwindled flame of desperate hope with the promise that she could do something.

Sighing in frustration, Sam reached over to the lamp next to the table and clicked on the light.

He almost missed the quick movement, but as soon as he saw the shadow moving, Sam went for the nearest gun. His hands had just closed over the Desert Eagle .45 when a voice came from behind him, close to his ear, "Boo."

He whirled around, finger tightening on the trigger. Once upon a time he had argued against Dean's 'shoot first ask questions later' reaction. However after the last couple years he'd come to understand that hesitation only got you killed. In his case, literally. Just because he hadn't been willing to kill, didn't meant Jake wouldn't be either. Hindsight was always 20/20 and it sucked out loud to realize where he'd made his mistake. Sam was determined that would never happen again. But when he saw his uninvited intruder he stopped short. Dammit, speak of the devil...

With a grin, Ruby pushed the gun pointed at her away, "Is this how you're going to welcome me every time I come to talk?"

Sam ignored her question and didn't loosen his grip on the gun, "What are you doing here?" He demanded.

A delicate eyebrow raised, "You haven't given me an answer yet to my offer."

"I didn't kill you, that should be answer enough." He gritted out.

"I thought that saving your brother would be of utmost importance to you." She shrugged carelessly, "But then, maybe you don't care as much about Dean as you pretend to."

That was the thing about demons, they tended to get under the skin both literally _and_ figuratively. They always seemed to know what buttons to push to get a reaction. Nothing got to Sam as much as someone questioning his devotion to his brother.

"Get out of here, Ruby. This isn't a good time." He said, gripping the gun firmer. He was tired from the latest hunt, frustrated by his fight with Dean, and the last thing he needed was this. Sam really didn't want to deal with the demon right now.

Her lips pouted out, "Is that a yes or no."

There also had been a time when Sam would have tried the pleading 'puppy-dog' route first, but that day had come and gone. "Get. Out."

"Fine," She snapped, dropping her act for a second. She made her way to the door with an almost childish sulky attitude and opened it before turning around, "We'll talk again later then." She promised with a sickeningly pleasant smile. The door shut firmly behind her, leaving Sam alone in the motel room.

It took a few minutes to shake off the tension Ruby's 'visit' had brought, but he finally reached for his carrying case and pulled his laptop out. He set the Desert Eagle next to the computer, still wanting it within easy access in case 'later' was sooner than he wanted it to be.

Taking his laptop out of hibernation he checked his e-mail. 4 new messages.

A few clicks later he read through them. They were all replies from the dozens of e-mails he'd sent out weeks earlier to contacts he, Dean, and even their father had established over the years. All four said the same basic thing. There was no way to break a deal with a crossroads demon. Just like every other response he'd been given.

Sam sighed and rubbed his temple in frustration. There truly was not going to be an easy solution. So far Ruby was the only one who'd said that a deal was even possible to be broken, much less offer to help. Not that she was doing it from the kindness of her heart.

Demons lie, Sam knew that. But sometimes they tell the truth. And so far everything Ruby had told him, what she had led him to discover about his mother's friends and family, all of it checked out so far. And as much as he wanted to be realistic, when it came to his brothers future Sam would cling to the slimmest chance that he could keep Dean from going to hell. That's the only thing that had kept Sam from sending the demon packing back to where she had come from.

He hadn't agreed to help her yet, the very idea of allying himself with the enemy brought a bitter taste to his mouth, but he couldn't kill -or exorcize- her while she dangled a way to save Dean like a carrot in front of him. But Sam's resistence to verbally accept her 'proposal' was more show than anything, and she probably knew it. In the end, he was going to do whatever it took to stop Dean's deal from being carried through.

Sam hadn't told Dean about Ruby yet. He wanted to, but he couldn't find the right time to bring it up. He had a good idea how his brother was going to react, and he needed to find a way to get Dean to see that they needed her. Sam had the sinking feeling, though, that he would never get Dean to view things his way.

Dean just didn't understand how Sam felt. Dean said he saw the light at the end of tunnel, and that he was okay with it- was actually _okay_ with the fact that the light was hellfire. And the fact that his brother didn't care what was going to happen or where he was going scared Sam. The older man wanted to spend the year living life like it was one giant holiday; Christmas, birthday, and a bachelor party all rolled into one. And all Sam could see was an hourglass on the table, the grains of sands of time slowly slipping away.

It didn't help that Dean refused to talk about anything that didn't directly relate to the current hunt or the bra size of the woman across the bar. His brothers world suddenly was revolving entirely on sex and hunting. Oh, and eating and drinking. Dean had never been one to turn down food, but it was getting ridiculous now. Sam finally had to draw the line at bringing food with them while they hunted when two weeks earlier Dean tried to dig a grave with a shovel in one hand and a ham sandwich in the other.

Despite his frustration, Sam couldn't help but let his lip twitch at the mental snapshots he had of Dean determinedly digging, pausing ever few moments to take a bite. When Sam finally suggested he take a turn so Dean could finish the sandwich that he so obviously _had_ to eat - said with appropriate sarcasm - his brother had just said Nah, I'm good. At least that's what he thought the other hunter had said. It was hard to understand around the mouthful of food Dean had felt compelled to take a bite of before he spoke, followed by a slightly distorted -but still recognizable- cocky grin that so often graced his older brothers face.

God, it was moments like that Sam to remember, to have more of. The times when Dean was just being himself, quirky as he might be. No masks, no walls, no brave facade that shouted 'I'm a bad-ass hunter who feels no fear, pain, or remorse'. Sam wanted his brother, not a fucking Terminator.

Sighing Sam put away the laptop. He checked his watch and was surprised to find it was later than he'd expected. How time flies when you're brooding over your brother's impending death, he thought humorlessly.

His eyes wandered over to the door as if expecting Dean to walk in any moment and tell him to snap out of his girlish funk and grow a pair, but the door remained firmly closed.

Sam rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. The many late nights tapping on his computer and researching were finally catching up with him. He might as well get some sleep. He knew that staying up and waiting for Dean to return would be pointless, especially in light that they were now officially in the middle of a fight after their small scene at the bar. Reconciliation would have to wait until tomorrow. After Dean had his coffee.

Sam quickly took a five minute shower and crawled into his bed. He made sure that the gun still was within arm reach, still slightly paranoid with Ruby's appearance.

Already half-asleep, he looked over at the empty bed next to his.

_Come back soon Dean. _

- - - supernatural - - -

Despite the seriousness of his situation Dean allowed himself a self-satisfied smirk. _Even as a girl I can kick ass_.

He tried to ignore the fact that the amount of strength and power he'd put into his swing would have normally knocked a man out and possibly broken the jaw. However Trey defied all attempts at denial by continuing to remain conscious.

And oww... his fingers frickin' _hurt._ Dean tried to inconspicuously rub his injured hand.

"Shit," the other man rubbed his jaw and glared up at Dean, "You didn't have to do that."

_What, let you continue to make that stupid giggling sound for another second? I think not._ "I really, _really_, felt like it." He watched the forming small bruise where his fist had landed with approval.

Trey looked up warily, "Feel better now that you've knocked me down?"

"Not especially." Dean wanted to do some serious damage to this guy. The shock and horror of his predicament from earlier was fading and being replaced by red hot anger. The hunter part of him pushed to the forefront and he looked down at Trey calculatingly.

Although not in anyway intimidating in appearance, Trey looked both intelligent and resourceful. He appeared to be in his late twenties early thirties, but one couldn't judge a supernatural's age by physical looks. For all Dean knew the guy was thousands of years old.

"I guess I'd be safer down here then." Trey said with resignation.

"You're not going to be safe _anywhere_," Dean told him pointedly. He bent down, keeping eye contact, and pulled the small knife he kept strapped at his ankle out of its sheath. Silver, thrice blessed, with small symbols etched all along the blades face, the weapon shone with appropriate menace. Trey's steel eyes widened.

Crouching down, only slightly taller than Trey's sprawled figure, Dean grinned, "Now let's try starting this back at the beginning," the forced pleasantness in his tone was like a small sign flashing _danger, danger_. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"Aww, comon, I don't think the knife is necessary..." when Dean simply stared at him, Trey hurried on, "But I guess I don't have much say in what you do...soooo, why don't you calm down a bit while I explain."

The hunter glared, "I'll calm down once you reverse whatever _you_ did."

"I can't."

Dean's mind immediately interpreted can't as won't, "Wrong answer." His grip on the knife tightened.

"Wait, stop! I really can't. It was a blood spell, irreversible on my part. But...!" his voice rose a fraction when Dean brought the sharp edge of the weapon closer, "It's probably not permanent." The knife pulled back and Trey let out a sigh of relief.

"Not permanent, this...girl thing... it will just go away? I'll go back to normal?" Dean let out a relieved breath. The thought of being a girl for the rest of his life, no matter how short it was going to be was too horrible, almost worse than the actually thought of dying. Then his eyes narrowed, thinking through Trey's words, "Wait, what do you mean _probably_? I might really stay this way for the rest of my life!?" Horror and panic were back.

"It depends."

"On_ what_!"

"On how much you meant what you said."

"About being a girl?" Dean's voice was incredulous. Trey nodded. Well that was just great. Now everything hinged on how serious he'd been. "I'm pretty freakin certain I wasn't serious."

"I didn't think you were either. But that's not what I meant. The spell is only as strong as how seriously you believed your answer to my question." He put up a hand to forestall the question forming on Dean's lips, "Don't ask me why it works that way, that's just the way the cookie crumbles. The question was: what would it take for you and your brother to relate to each other and talk. Your answer: 'The day I..'"

"'...turn into a girl." Dean finished with quiet horror.

"So Dean, did you truly believe that it would take you changing into a girl for you to be able to talk with Sam?" It was obvious that Trey was hoping to be told that Dean thought there was hundreds of better ways that would allow him to have a normal heart to heart type conversation with Sam.

Dean felt the blood drain from his face. The comment had been a spur of moment thought, but at the same time he had known then, just as he did now, that it would take some kind of cataclysmic event to break through the wall of silence between the Winchester brothers. His manly body being swapped for a woman's was overshooting cataclysmic by a mile and broaching the borders of apocalyptic in his book.

"Okay, assuming I really meant what I said, how long will this spell thing last?" He sighed in resignation. _Please let this be a fairy god mother 'spell ends at the first stroke of midnight' kind of deal..._

"Days, weeks, months..." Trey hesitated a moment before admitting,"...forever."

"Oh god, I am so screwed," misery poured from every feminine feature. He buried his face in his unoccupied hand, fingers clenching fistfuls of hair in a faux attempt to pull the unfamiliar silky locks from his head.

Trey winced. "I'm sorry. If it helps, I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Dean lifted his head, "No, it really _doesn't_ help."

"It still might just wear off..." Trey sounded doubtful, but probably realized that his life still hung in the balance so optimism was in his best interest.

"There must be some other way to reverse this, anything that can make me normal again?" Dean wouldn't accept that he might be doomed to remain a woman.

"I don't know," the other man said helplessly, "I've never had someone not want my gift."

"This isn't a gift, it's a curse!"

Trey didn't take kindly to what he considered his 'gift' being dissed, "Well, if I'd known you were going to say something so completely _stupid_ I wouldn't have done the spell. Most people keep their answers within the realm of reason; they want better jobs, a girlfriend, bigger breasts."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest at the mention of breasts. "Well you could have mentioned that my answer was going to be taken so seriously. 'By the way, whatever you say will become reality' would have been just fine.

"Look, Winchester, this was not what I intended to happen. And I know you're really pissed at me, and no I'm not sure there's anyway to turn you back , but I truly did have the best of intentions. I thought I could help you and your brother work out whatever your problems were."

Dean deflated a little bit at Trey's speech. Once his anger had fizzled out and he'd come to understood his situation better, it had become visible that Trey wasn't evil and hadn't done this to him deliberately. That didn't mean he was just going to forgive the grey-eyed supernatural, but Dean wasn't sure annihilation was necessary anymore either.

"Guess you didn't count on how screwed up we are." He allowed a corner of his mouth to twitch up.

Trey snorted, "No shit. You win the award for most dysfunctional family."

"That's probably the only thing I'll ever win."

Both fell into an uncomfortable silence. Dean reached a decision and put his knife back in it's sheath to Trey's relief.

"So...what now?" he finally ventured

The blonde hunter pursed his lips seriously before announcing his conclusion, "I've decided not to kill you..."

"That's a good start." He most definitely approved.

"...Yet."

Trey grimaced.

"You, in return for not being killed despite of how very much I want to, will do whatever it takes to find a way to turn me back to being the handsome chick-magnet man I was meant to be. Aside from that, I want to get out of this damn bathroom."

Trey looked at Dean, or more specifically, the girl's body that was practically falling out of the man's clothes, "The first one I agree to. A most fair offer if I might say. The second might be a little difficult. You're not exactly going to be inconspicious going out of the _men's_ room wearing that."

"I don't see any windows or girl clothes magically appearing so at this point I don't see another option." Dean stood up and moved towards the door, but in a horrible twist of Fate -she obviously hated Dean- the movement ruined whatever miracle was holding his jeans up and they fell down, pooling over small, delicate ankles and revealing long, slender legs. Thankfully his shirt was now long enough to keep some semblance of modesty but Dean felt his face flush as he caught sight of himself in one of the mirrors. "Sonuvabitch..."

In what was already ranking up there in the most embarrassing moments of his life, insult to injury was added when the bathroom door began swinging open and a twenty-some walked in. The young man's eyes widened at the unexpected sight, looking at Dean's half-dressed state then at Trey who stood in his own state of mild shock.

For one horribly long moment all three stood still, none quite sure what to do. Finally, the man mumbled some kind of apology and nearly killed himself reopening the door to leave.

The sound of the door banging shut ringing in his ears, Dean covered his face yet again with his hands. God, this really couldn't get much worse.

He turned to see Trey's mouth hanging slightly open, eyes glued to the uncovered legs. Looking back in the mirror, Dean had to admit they were the nicest pair of legs he'd seen in a long time. Then he snapped out of it. No way! No way in hell was he going to start drooling over his own body. That was just..._wrong_.

With a glare directed at Trey, he quickly bent down and pulled the pants back up, holding them up with one hand. "You..." he pointed a accusing finger, "if you ever look at me like I'm a woman again..."

The other man's eyes snapped up, seeming appalled by his own reaction, and he held up his hands in surrender and swore vehemently, "Never, never again."

"Good. Now give me your belt."

Trey wrinkled his nose but didn't argue. He undid the leather belt and handed it to Dean, who looped it through the jeans, notching it at the smallest hole to keep them up. He also ended up rolling up the jean legs to keep from tripping over them anymore. There was nothing to be done about the shoes four sizes too small, or the shirt that reached past his hips. Dean scanned the room before he saw his leather jacket laying on the ground in one of the stalls. He picked it up and pulled it on before returning to look back in the mirror.

"This will have to do for now." He finally said after staring at his reflection for a long moment. He turned to Trey resolutely "Let's go."

Dean opened the door and tried his best to act normal as he left the relative safety of the bathroom. Unfortunately there wasn't any way to not be noticed in his new state. He ignored the stares he got from the people nearest him and headed to the bars exit, which as luck would have it was across the room. He just wanted to get his over with.

He started to pick up his pace when he saw a couple of seedy looking men in the corner zero in on him. After a brief conversation, one of them, a bulky blonde with a scruffy beard left his group and planted himself between Dean and the beckoning freedom of the door just a few yards away.

Dean faltered to a stop. Maybe, this hadn't been the best plan. A quick look back showed Trey just exiting the men's room. Too late to stop now. He squared his shoulders and tried to walk past, but the man moved again to block his path.

"Hey now sweetheart, where're ya heading off to?" The blonde said pushing his hairy face down into Dean's, coming closer than Dean was comfortable with. His nose wrinkled at the smell of alcohol on the man's breath.

"Whaaa..." Dean wasn't the type to be caught off guard but this was not a situation he'd ever encountered before. Ever. Despite the occasional person who, for whatever reason, thought he was gay, he had never had a guy hit on him before. He intentionally chose female marks to get information from and at bars he never wasted any time getting feminine companionship. This...this was completely new to Dean, and he didn't like it.

Dean gritted his teeth and tried to move away from the man determined to ignore personal space but his response only seemed to encourage the other man. Swaying a little, he moved even closer, leering down at Dean.

"The name's Nate, how's about we go over to that booth over there and introduce ourselves properly," Nate's hand closed over Dean's arm, and began pulling him over to where the rest of his friends sat.

His skin crawling at the sudden touch, Dean jerked back, pushing the man's hand off, his eyes blazing. "Don't touch me." His fist clenched, preparing to punch someone for the second time in the last hour.

"Oooh, feisty little thing aren't ya," Nate grinned wolfishly. "I like that in my women."

The man didn't even see the fist coming before it hit him square in the nose. Dean felt the cartilage give way with a satisfying squish. "I said, Don't. Touch. Me." His voice was hard, and furious.

Rearing back, Nate swore loudly and wiping a hand over the injured area, coming away with blood on his finger. "What the...you bitch!"

What could have ended in further bloodshed was saved by Trey's timely appearance. He stepped between Dean and Nate.

"Lets go." He tugged at Dean's jacket, trying to get him to move, but the hunter stubbornly refused.

Nate narrowed his eyes at Trey, "Hey, this your girl?" He demanded.

Trey's eyes widened for a moment, but took the opening his was given, "Yes, yes, she's my...girlfriend!" he choked out the last part. Dean finally moved, but only to turn his glare on the newly minted boyfriend. Not deterred, Trey looked over at Nate and tried to look appropriately apologetic. "I'm sorry, man. My girl here was just overreacting, she didn't mean to really hurt you. Did you, baby?" 'She' glowered behind Trey, belying his words. Hell, yeah he had.

Nate relaxed a little, one hand still cupping his nose, "Didn't know she was taken." he offered, as if that made it alright, "It was jus'a mistake."

"Yeah, mistake," Trey let out a breath of relief. This could have gone really, really bad if Nate had decided to take retaliation for Dean's actions on him.

Nate began to move away, back to his friends. He stopped however and looked at Trey and advised, "I suggest you keep better control over your woman, man, or someone's going to do it for you." He turned back around and moved out of sight.

Trey barely managed to grab Dean before the hunter went after Nate. He ended up nearly dragging Dean out of the bar. Trey stopped and let go of the jacket when they reached the parking lot.

Dean fumed, "What the hell, man!?"

Trey wasn't intimidated, "What were you thinking? We already have one more problem than we can handle, the last thing we needed was an out and out bar fight! I hate to break it to you, Dean, but you're not exactly the imposing force to be reckoned with that you were. Right now all anybody sees when they look at you is a woman."

"Thanks for the reminder, I'd almost forgotten about that," he snapped, but felt his anger deflate as the adrenaline rush he'd been on also dissipated.

Dean began silently walking toward his Impala and Trey followed him.

"Okay, what now?" The supernatural asked.

"I don't know." Dean said, honestly. He hadn't been thinking further than getting out of the bar. "You're the one who's supposed to find some kind of loophole out of this spell thing. What do you suggest?"

"I do have some..." he looked at Dean meaningfully, "..friends who might know something or know someone who might be able to help. I'll start with them and work my way down to some of my...ah..not so much friends."

"Good, that's a start," he agreed, feeling a little more hopeful. Trey having connections in the supernatural realm was a definite asset. _I knew that not killing the guy would pay off._

"But, I'm not sure any of them will help me if I have a hunter hounding my every step. Or if they know that I'm actually helping out a Winchester. The name isn't so popular in this circle, at least not in the good way. Most of them would be more likely to kill you than help. Or at the very least buy front row tickets to 'Dean Winchester: Life As A Girl, the comedy'" Trey said pointedly.

Dean hesitated. His instinct, which admittedly had gone wonky earlier when he'd first trusted Trey but was usually reliable, told the hunter that Trey wasn't evil. And if he'd wanted to run, he could have many times over already. So, Dean concluded, Trey seemed to genuinely willing to help correct his mistake. Before the vamp Lenore, he might never had believed that anything Supernatural could be good, but he was slowly realizing that there was a lot more grey than he'd believed. And he was running out of options.

"Okay," Dean finally decided, "I guess I have no choice but to let you go off on your own. But you will stay in contact with me the entire time. And let me know if you turn up anything." He allowed his voice to mimic his father's commanding tone. The one that said 'obedience is the only acceptable response'.

"Agreed," the other man nodded. "What'll you do?"

"Uhhh...not sure yet."

"I guess you're going to have to talk to you brother, explain what happened. Samuel...isn't it?" Trey suggested.

"Sam." Dean said automatically, already moving ahead in his mind. He'd hadn't really thought about having to tell Sam..well in this case he'd probably have to show him...what had happened.

How the hell do you tell your brother he just lost a brother and gained a sister through a stupid answer to some magical spell thingy that this guy named Trey, who is some kind of supernatural wish granter, cast cause he was trying to help solve their unresolved communication issues?

'_Why don't we just stop talking to each other at all. I'm sure that'll help solve all our problems.'_ His brothers words rang in his ear.

How do you tell your brother you're a woman now?

Dean's decision: You don't.

- - -supernatural- - -

A/N1: Oh my. Yeah, that about sums it up.

btw, I actually did a little research for deciding what Dean would do.

Me: Hey, bro, I have a question that I need answered from a guys perspective

Brother: What is it?

Me: If you were magically turned into a girl one day, would you a) tell me or b) run like hell and do everything you could to make sure I don't find out.

Brother: Uhhhh...I'd have to go with running like hell.

So there you go. Apparently guys would (hypothetically) rather die than tell a sibling they've changed gender. And yes, in case you're wondering, my brother is actually used to questions like that from me.

A/N2: I don't have a lot of notes to go along with this chapter as I feel it pretty much speaks for itself, so I'll leave you with a promise of another angst/humor filled chapter on it's way and the always expected shameless plead for reviews.

Remember: Reviews are like single m&m's. Each one you get is the best you've ever had.

- Kerri B.


	3. Chapter 3

**Beginning Note:** I apologize in advance that there's no Sam in this chap, but he was sleeping so peacefully I couldn't bring myself to wake him up, especially since this one's shorter than usual. But hey, I actually updated a week later, which is practically a miracle for me of late. Your reviews have encouraged and inspired! Beware the insanity to ensue... evil grin Ye have been warned.

**Chapter Three**

**When Two Girls Collide**

Then: Dean's a girl. Sam's depressed. Ruby's an evil demon. Trey's a bumbling idiot. 'Nuff said.

Now:

Trey stared at Dean incredulously. "What do you mean you're not going to tell him?"

"I'm just not."

Since the man had obviously not thought this through, Trey was left with the task of pointing out the very visible flaws with his decision, "I hate to break it to you, but Sam would have to be blind to not notice that _you're a woman _when he sees you."

"Then I guess he can't see me," The hunter calmly said.

"And how, pray tell, do you plan to accomplish that?"

Dean dismissed the question with the flick of the hand, "I'll think of something."

"You're an idiot," Trey told him with weary sincerity. Winchester just shrugged and leaned againstthe Chevy Impala that he assumed belonged the hunter.

Ahrg! The man was impossibly stubborn. Trey reached a hand up to tug on his hair a little, a nervous habit he'd only just managed to kick a decade ago. It looked like he was falling off the band wagon again. "You do realize that this was supposed to bring you two together, help you work out your problems. Not drive you and Sam further apart."

"Let me ask _you_ something Trey, if you suddenly changed gender would you immediately go and tell your nearest relative all about it, or run like hell and do everything you can to make sure they don't find out?"

There was silence as Trey tried to decide whether to lie to support his own case, or honestly admit what he'd do.

"Well?"

"Fine, I'd probably be more inclined to running. But it wouldn't be the right thing to do."

Dean wrinkled his nose at the self-righteous statement, "Save it. I gave up on doing 'the right thing' a long time ago. All it does is bring pain...and in this case humiliation."

He laughed in disbelief, "_That's_ what is stopping you? You're too embarrassed to tell Sam that you made a mistake, said something you shouldn't have and explain how you were turned into a girl version of you," Dean's face darkened, but Trey pushed further, "What, not man enough anymore to own up to your own mess." _Please don't kill me for that_, he thought fervently.

"This wasn't my fault and you damn well know it," Dean snarled, stung by the accusation.

It was true, but so not the point. Trey's mind scrambled for something, anything to help his argument. If Dean really decided to run, then instead of helping the brothers reconcile whatever differences they had, he'd have only succeeded into pulling them further apart.

Another tug of the hair, harder this time. And then inspiration struck!

While Trey would never assume he was an expert on all things Winchester, he'd heard enough to know that the surest way to get to Dean was through Sam. The older brother was fiercely protective of his younger sibling, had apparently made it his life purpose to make sure the kid stayed safe. There was no denying that Dean had a bit of a savior complex, even a casual observer like Trey could see that. Hello, the guy sold his _soul_ to bring Sam back to life.

Winchester was a natural protector. The fact he had spent twenty some years, almost his entire life, saving people from the darker side of the supernatural was a testament to that. Trey'd heard him described as the 'guardian angel of the innocents'. Though it might be normally said by a resentful shape-shifter, trickster, or demon with heavy sarcasm, the sentiment was actually true.

_All he'd need now is wings and a halo_, he thought, scrutinizing the blonde in front of him. Dean had also been labeled a 'pretty boy', and now that his delicate features were even _more_ delicate... he did look pretty damn angelic. Aside from the angry frown that was currently residing on said angel's face, of course...

Shaking off the direction his mind had taken, Trey blew out a heavy sigh before implementing his newest argument, "Listen, I know that you're a macho tough guy, who doesn't like to admit when he's wrong, but think about this: if you run away, you won't be able to protect Sam anymore."

Dean's head snapped toward him, and by the deepening frown Trey knew he'd finally scored a point in his favor. Not that he was keeping score...

- - supernatural - -

The guy had a point. Damn him!

_Shit, how do I always manage to get myself into trouble? You'd think one day I'd figure out what I'm doing wrong and save myself the pain...and humiliation._

The minute Dean had decided that Sam couldn't find out, his mind had been working overtime to come up with a plan. Unfortunately the only coherent idea so far went along the lines of 'I hear Yemen is nice this time of year.'

Going into hiding wasn't much of a plan, although now that he didn't have the face of one of America's Most Wanted anymore he wouldn't have trouble trying to leave the country. Then he considered that he'd have to fly... and suddenly Yemen lost all appeal. Double damn!

_Don't freak out, I'll think of something...hopefully sooner than I did while tied up in that freakin apple orchard. Sammy ended up having to save my ass and I don't want a repeat any time soon._

Dean had to admit though, that coming clean with Sam did have it's appeal. Sam wouldn't magically have the answer to solve his problem, but at least he would be there to help Dean figure out what the next step should be. Not to mention willingly volunteer for research duty.

There's where the positives ended and the negatives began, though. In the hypothetical event that Sam found out Dean knew what would happen next. Little brother would go into 'mother hen' mode, worrying even more than he was already. Endless nights spent tapping on the laptop. Kid would no doubt find a way to put all the blame on himself too. Sam was funny like that.

And worst of all, in Dean's mind, Sam would find this a new excuse to make Dean open up. 'And how do you _feel_ about being in the body of a woman?'. No way was he going to put himself through that kind of torture. _ Kill me now_...

But could he really leave Sam alone, unprotected? Dean knew that his brother attracted the things that lived in the shadows like a moth to the flame. Without him, Sam would be on his own, nobody to watch his back. The younger Winchester was a capable fighter and damn good hunter, but he wasn't invincible. It was something that haunted Dean every night.

_Sam limped toward Dean, holding his shoulder. Relief at finding his brother rushed through him but then he saw the dark shadow rising from behind. Dean barely noticed his own voice yelling, trying to warn him of the danger. He was running forward, but it was too late. The man thrust the knife deep into Sammy's back. His baby brother legs gave out, and he was falling..._

No, Dean realized, he couldn't. Sam died that night in Cold Oak because Dean hadn't been there, had lost him and didn't find his brother in time to save him. He would never forgive himself if something happened to Sam again. Dean had promised himself that this last year he had left would be spent killing as many demons he could and making sure Sam stayed alive and unharmed. No, running from Sam couldn't be an option.

He just wished there was a way that he could stay near Sam without him knowing. But it wasn't like he could just waltz in and declare himself to be a long-lost sister. _No way Sam would buy that one_, he decided with disappointment.

"Dean?" Trey tried to break through his thoughts, probably irritated that Dean still hadn't responded to the man's attempt to stop his former running plan.

Dean ignored him. _Hello, intense thinking here_. He felt a little like the yellow bear with a honey pot that sat around going 'think. think. think.' Or maybe he was more like the depressed donkey. _Getting off track here, Dean, focus.._

Okay, sister idea was completely stupid, not up to par with Dean's usual schemes. And that's when he realized that ridiculous as it was, he may have been on the right track. It sparked another one...a crazy idea. An 'I'm insane, but if I wasn't, this would probably never work' kind.

Dean broke into a grin. Holy shit, it actually _could_ work.

"Dean?" Trey asked cautiously. It looked like he was a little unnerved by the hunters switch from brooding to the scheming and slightly smug look he now sported.

But Dean wasn't listening to the other man. He had finally figured it out, what he would need to do. It was ingenious, brilliant. And best of all, Sam would be both protected and completely unaware of Dean's presence.

All he needed to do now was to make a quick phone call.

- - supernatural - -

Bobby Singer nearly crashed his car when he felt something vibrating at his hip. It took him a second to realize it was his cellphone.

Cursing, he pulled it out and glanced at the caller id. It made him curse all the more. Phone calls from Dean Winchester were never good.

"This better be important." he barked.

There was silence on the other end, making Bobby forget his irritation for a moment, replacing it with concern. He forced himself to keep the anxiety out of his voice, "Hello?"

"Hey , Bobby. This is Dean." The older hunter frowned. Dean didn't sound so good, his voice was rough, like he had a bad cold.

"Dean? What the hell are calling this late for? And what's wrong with your voice." He wasn't one to beat around the bush. If Dean was calling and not Sam then chances were something was wrong. The last midnight call had been only a few months earlier with Dean frantic over Sam's disappearing act. _That_ had ended in one brother dead and another rushing out to make deals with devils as soon as Bobby's back had been turned. Singer still hadn't forgiven Dean for that.

"Inhaled a little too much smoke, you know how salt ' burns go." Dean rasped. Bobby eyebrows raised, but it wasn't worth arguing over. He listened as the other hunter got back to business, "I'm sorry to keep bothering you all the time like this, Bobby. You've done more than enough to help me and Sam before..."

"It's no bother Dean, you know that. What kind of trouble did you boys get in this time?"

"We're not in trouble per se, just ran into some unexpected complications on our last hunt."

"Complications?" Bobby didn't bother hiding his skepticism. 'Complications' in a Winchester's book ranged all the way from 'easily fixed problem' to 'I might be dying any second now'. They also all ended with a 'don't worry, I'll think of something' attitude that was going to get them all killed one of these days, Bobby just knew it.

Dean huffed a little at the disbelieving tone, but continued on, "Yeah...nothing much but we kinda need a place to lay low for a while."

"Well I'm driving down in Florida to visit my sister right now, Dean. I won't be back for a week," Bobby stopped for moment, weighing his potential offer carefully.

It wasn't that he didn't want to help Dean and Sam, but the Winchester brothers got into more trouble in a week than most hunters did over months, even years. A man had to think twice before inviting that kind of trouble magnets into his home. But didn't take Bobby long to make a decision. Despite all the problems they'd brought to his doorstep over the years, they were good boys.

"You and your brother are welcome to stay at my house for as long as you need."

"Thanks Bobby." he heard Dean's barely repressed sigh of relief and knew he'd made the right call.

"It's no problem. Just try not to destroy my home like the last couple times." Bobby had spent weeks repairing the cracked ceiling from the demon Meg's second visit to his humble abode. Bitch.

"I'll do my best to keep Sam in line. But you know how much the guy loves to go wild and party."

Bobby snorted and continued, "There's enough salt and holy water in my house to last a year, so make good use of it. Ain't no demon trashing the place this time or you'll never step foot near my place again. And stay away from my liquor, boy. I'm gonna need it after this visit. One week living with my sister and her husband in their white picket fenced house is one week too long."

From Dean's snicker it was obvious that while he might understand Bobby's pain, he still found humor in it. 'Better you than me' was a motto the younger hunter lived by.

"And Dean?" He still had to give one last warning, even if it fell on deaf years like most oft times it did.

"Yeah?"

"Try and stay out of any more trouble for a while, okay?" Not that Bobby truly believed it was possible. This was a _Winchester_ he was talking to...

- - supernatural - -

Dean slumped even further against his impala, but kept a grip on the cellphone, "Believe me, I'm going to be staying under the radar for a while." He barely managed to keep from flinching when his voice pitched a little too high at the end.

He'd realized as soon as Bobby'd answered his call that his voice, just like his body, had been distorted into a feminine version. Dean quickly tried to deepen his voice as best he could, but even to his own ear it sounded off.

From the way Trey was working to keep a smirk off his face it was obvious the man found his suffering amusing. Dean pushed down the impulse to kick the guy in the knee and settled for a death glare. He finished off his conversation with Bobby, promising to give the older hunter a call later if for no other reason than to save Singer from the horrible bane of existence that was the suburban life. Dean had to grin at the image of the grizzled hunter forced to walk in the middle of a bunch Stepford Wives look-a-likes. But when he realized that one of the mental Wives looked too much like the image he'd seen of himself in the mirror, Dean lost his sense of humor. There was _no way in hell _he'd ever wear a dress or high-heels.

But it did bring up a problem that Dean needed to solve. "I need some clothes."

"No store's going to be open this time of night," Trey pointed out. This town, like most towns that Sam and Dean visited, was too small to have 24/7 stores.

"You know, this habit you have of pointing out all the flaws to my plans is _not_ helpful." The hunter sighed, "Especially if you don't have any other ideas."

"Actually, I do have a suggestion."

"Go on." Dean said suspiciously. But who could blame him? Trey wasn't exactly a shining example of trust-worthiness.

"My place isn't far from here..."

"Unuhh, no way.." He knew how this ended. Nice guy lures women to his home with his charm and then turns out to be a psycho who kills them and hides their bodies under the floorboards of his home. Yep, he'd seen the movies. He wasn't paranoid. Nope, not in the least...

"Let me finish! My apartment is just a couple blocks away. My wife is away visiting a friend that just had a baby and won't be back until Tuesday. I don't know what size you are, but she has more clothes than she could possibly need. I'm sure you could find something to borrow until you can get your own."

Dean blinked, "Wait, you have a wife?"

Trey looked irritated, "Yes. What, you think a guy like me couldn't get a girl?"

"Does she know what you are?"

"Again yes. What's with the inquisition?"

"Nothing, just never thought about you having wives or a family."

"By 'you' I assume you mean supernaturals." Trey didn't sound offended, just curious.

Dean shrugged, "I guess. No offense or anything, but most supernaturals I see are evil sonsofbitches. They're always alone, killing people, ruining lives."

"Most don't care about anything or anyone but themselves," Trey agreed, "But we aren't all evil."

"So you say..." Dean said, "But I'm not sure if I really believe it."

Another awkward silence was born before Dean moved back two paces and picked the conversation up, "So...you're offering me your wife's clothes?"

"Yes."

"Let's go then." Dean opened the Impala's door and sat in the drivers seat. Reaching to the back side door he pulled up the lock and motioned for Trey to get in.

"The back seat?" Trey asked.

"Sitting in the front's a privilege, and you pal haven't earned it yet. It's either the back or you walk."

Trey grimaced and obediently took his rightful place while Dean started the car up.

Relaxing into the seat at the familiar growl of his baby, Dean put the car into drive and pulled out of the bar parking lot. Then he cursed when he ended up sliding forward so that his foot could reach the pedal. Frickin short girl legs.

It only took five minutes to reach Trey's apartment complex. He pulled out his key and opened the door, letting Dean go in first before reaching over to turn on the lights.

"Nice place," Dean commented, looking around.

"Thanks. The bedroom's over here," he moved to the right and Dean followed. Inside the room Trey pointed to a tall mahogany dresser. "Her clothes are in the top five drawers and the right side of the closet."

His hands spread to encompass the areas he'd shown and said, "Have at it. Tell me if you need any...uh help."

"No worries, you've already done more than enough," Dean didn't bother to bite back the sarcasm. Faced with the task of finding acceptable women's clothes was putting him back in a dark mood.

"Fair enough." Trey said affably, "I'll just go get a start on some phone calls." The supernatural walked out and left the other man alone.

Dean stared after him, a little weirded out that Trey was actually letting him go through his wife's clothes. It didn't seem like a very husbandly thing to do, letting a stranger loose in the bedroom. Kinda creepy actually. But he was desperate for something to wear that didn't try to fall off his body. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

Resigned to his fate, Dean walked over to the dresser and pulled open the first drawer. He peeked inside and then slammed it back as if he'd seen a snake, a red stain in his cheeks.

Figured he'd pick the panty and bra drawer first.

A little more cautious this time he moved down and breathed a little easier when all he encountered were pants and shorts. Taking out the first pair of jeans he saw, Dean made easy work of replacing the old with the new. He ignored the loose boxers floating around his hips. One look at the lace and frills he'd seen in that top drawer told him that he was safer sticking with his own.

Already disliking the too-tight feel of the jeans, Dean glanced at the full-length mirror fixed on the wall beside the closet. It looked right. Apparently it was _supposed_ to be cutting off his circulation. He glared at the jeans, as if it was their fault. Damn girl jeans.

He proceeded to the closet. Dresses and skirts and those funny looking ones that weren't skirts or shorts but somewhere in between were carefully ignored as he dived straight for the shirts. Finding a top proved harder than the jeans. He made his way through shirt after shirt, desperately looking for something that didn't have flowers, sequins, gaping necklines, or (worst of all) were in some awful girly shades of pink and purple. Dean had almost given up hope when he found the black t-shirt pushed way in the back.

He pulled it out triumphantly, but the grin morphed to resignation when he saw the front. Awww, hell no. The universe did have it out for him.

'100 All Natural' it proudly proclaimed in red swirly script across the top.

Unfortunately, this was his best option, and how truly pathetically sad was that? Damn girl shirts.

Cursing and fuming Dean reached down to pull off the oversized T he was wearing, then hesitated when he realized what he was a about to reveal. Dean Winchester was by no stretch of the imagination a modest man. But this was going places he was really uncomfortable going. So he did the only thing a person in his position could do.

He closed his eyes.

Dean kept them firmly closed until he'd safely finished taking off and putting on the new shirt. He sighed in relief to have survived the encounter with minimal mental scarring.

Then he remembered he was still missing one vital piece of clothing, at the same moment wishing he hadn't. Dean looked over to the dreaded top drawer of doom. He didn't _really_ need it, did he? One glance in the mirror said he most definitely did, giving him two very good reasons why.

Pursing his lips, wanting to fight against the horror that was now being thrust upon him, after everything else that had happened to him today. But he already knew he'd lose.

Letting out a long suffering sigh, Dean walked over to the dresser like a man facing his impending demise and pulled open the first drawer. He used two fingers to gingerly pluck out the offending clothing item, and turned with it dangling from his hand.

In that same moment the door to the bedroom slammed open and a tall, dark-haired woman swept in. She was halfway in motion to throw a jacket on the bed when she spotted Dean. She halted in obvious shock at the sight of the other occupant.

Dean was in a little shock of his own as he stared at her. The white bra he'd been holding like a snake by it's tail was forgotten.Mouth dropped open. _It couldn't possibly be..._

"Angelina Jolie!?" He squeaked, faintly realizing that Trey was entering the room, but was too distracted by the sight of the movie star to move his attention. At first he tried to reason that it was just someone that vaguely resembled Angelina Jolie. However the woman that was staring at him couldn't be mistaken for anyone other than the actress that graced many a magazine cover. Ironically, Dean's first thought was that one of his top ten dying wishes had come true. It only occurred a moment later that he should be wondering what she was doing there, in Trey's apartment.

Angelina however was not star-struck and turned on Trey with a cold fury that should have frozen him solid, "Would you mind telling me, _husband_, what this woman is doing in our room?" Her eyes traveled over Dean and widened in further offense, "And in MY clothes!?"

The bra finally fell to the floor from Dean's limp hand but he barely blinked. This was making no sense to his slightly muddled mind. He distantly heard Trey talking, babbling on about something, but it wasn't registering.

That is until Angelina flew toward Dean with murder in her eyes.

SLAP! The sound resonated through the room.

Dean's hand reached up and felt his right cheek, "Did you just _slap_ me?!"

Trey was in motion, "Wait, honey, it's not what it looks like!"

Angelina's lip curled, "Save it. I know exactly what was going on in here. And I'm not going to stand for some bimbo trying to get her hands on my man. Prepare to get your ass kicked to tomorrow, slut."

This day was just too unreal. Dean wanted to take a moment and proclaim to all just how truly insane it was, seeing as he was a woman and Angelina Jolie had just bitch slapped him. Maybe he had just fallen into some weird alternate universe because then all this would actually make sense. But that was most likely wishful thinking on his part.

And since insanity was apparently the new normal he figured that he might as well join in. Dean snapped under the pressure and gave way to impulse. Because those were fighting words!

He raised a hand and curled it inward, "Bring it on, bitch."

- - supernatural - -

**A/N:** I have a vague feeling that there may be some questions pertaining to this chapter, number one being: Angelina Jolie?

The second one being: _Angelina Jolie?_

And the third: _**Angelina Jolie?!**_

The fourth question might be something more along the lines of: Are you on drugs Kerri?

The answer: No. I'm not on drugs. And: Yes. Angie Jo. Crazy huh? Okay, okay you got me. I'll trust that you guys see something screwy is going on here and not all is as it seems. Also, I would like to quickly make note that before you decide that I've jumped off the deep end and this story with it, let me assure you that this will make way much more sense in next chapter.

Now assuming you people are still reading this story let alone the notes, let me say I'm sorry for the lack of update with 'Doppelganger'. The next chapter for that story isn't finished yet, but should be soon.

Remember: Reviews feed the muse. (They also inspire faster updates) No pressure though. . . lol

Your finger-crossed writer friend - Kerri


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! I think I got more for the last chapter than for any other. Yay! I apologize for not replying to all of them, I'm just so darn busy with holiday stuff.

Also, I'm sorry for leaving everyone on a such an...unusual... chap ending. But you guys seemed to have liked it, so I'm hoping everyone will find the answer to Angelina Jolie's appearance - and the ensuing chaos- entertaining. As for the question 'what was I drinking': the answer is Mountain Dew; I swear every time I drink it I get practically giddy and write the strangest things.

In this chapter you can look forward to the appearance of our much-missed Sam, Dean's struggle to survive at Trey's apartment, and a look at Trey's mildly dysfunctional family life. Enjoy!

Then: Dean's still a girl; Sam continues to slumber in blissful ignorance; Trey attempts to help - again; Angelina Jolie bitch-slaps Dean.

Chapter 4

It Won't Be Soon Before Long

It looked like a war zone. Ground zero for a bomb. Trey wanted to almost cry at the sight of his bedroom, the place that was his sanctuary - not to mention home of some of the best nights of his life, being destroyed within minutes. He was a guy, though, so crying was definitely out of the question. That was sweat rolling down his cheek, goddammit!

He'd decided two seconds in that getting in the middle of the two women facing off might end with his body ripped into shreds. Tiny, little, itsy-bitsy, sorry-you're-completely-unidentifiable shreds. Or a pile of ashes from the twin death glares aka laser eyes. That would also make him unidentifiable. No, his family deserved so much more than a little jar with a pile of black dust. _He_ deserved better.

Contrary to how this day had been going, Trey was not an idiot or suicidally inclined. He came to the life-preserving realization that his best option would to just let this run it's course.

Trey had to keep reminding himself of that as the desecration of his bedroom/sanctuary continued.

If this was a movie instead of reality, he might have actually enjoyed the view. It was Angelina Jolie vs Jennifer Anniston. Okay, not really, but that's almost what it looked like. Did that make him Brad Pitt? Trey self-consciously looked down at himself. Nope.

He saw a blur as one of the fighting figures was thrown backward with surprising force.

_Bump. _

The dresser fell over, drawers and clothes spilling out. The fallen woman reached a hand out, grabbing the nearest object, and swung upward.

_Crash._

There went the vase his sister had given him. He personally thought it was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen so it wasn't a real loss but Alicia was going to _kill_ him when she found out.

_Thump._

Now blonde and brunette hair seemed to mingle in a tangle of flying arms and legs as one of them tackled the other. They fell onto the bed with twin shrieks.

_Rip._

Goodbye sheets, he thought sadly.

_Just let it run it's course, just let it run it's course..._

That idea lasted as long as it took for one of the woman to wrap her hands around the others neck and start squeezing.

Trey realized that the 'do nothing' plan was not going to work. Not while his wife was trying to choke the life out of Dean.

- - supernatural - -

10 minutes earlier

Trey leaned against the bedroom door as soon as he closed it, leaving Winchester alone. He felt ridiculously relieved to be out of the hunters sight. Dean said he wasn't going to kill him but Trey felt safer putting as much distance as possible between him and a knife-wielding woman. Better safe than sorry.

With a backward glance at the bedroom, trying not to think about the fact Dean was going through his wife's clothes, Trey moved into the livingroom and dropped down onto the futon that Amy had insisted on buying a couple weeks earlier. He hated it, but he'd learned early on in marriage that men didn't get a choice about what kind of furniture was in their house. The only thing he'd managed to successfully put his foot down with was the pink theme for the bedroom she'd originally set her heart on; wallpaper, sheets, comforter, and all. He refused to sleep in a room that reminded him of cotton candy. The weeks of cold showers had so been worth it.

He was already chewing himself out over inviting a hunter into his home. How stupid was that! He could only thank his lucky stars that Amy wasn't going to be home for a few days. His wife would have a torn him a new one, first off for using a blood spell and second for letting a complete stranger wear her clothes; there'd be the banging of pots and pans, the horrible silent treatment broken only by short sentences that were minuscule decibels below shrieks, and oh god_, no sex for months. _Trey let himself feel very relieved to have dodged _that_ bullet.

_So, first problem solved, we have successfully solved clothing crisis. What now? I'm way past the point of running - should have known better than to ignore first instincts - looks like I'm going to have to see this through to the end. Please let this have end...I was always a sucker for the happily-ever-after endings. Now you're rambling, Trey. Stop that! Focus and think. Okay, on to the next thing, finding a way to reverse my spell. I swear I'm hearing the Mission Impossible theme..._

Trey frowned when he realized he really was hearing music. It took him a few more seconds to realize that it was his cell phone playing the Mission Impossible theme. _Should have known better than to randomly choose ring tones. _He lifted it up and grimaced at the sight of his cousins name on caller id.

"This is really not a good time, Adrian..."

"Shit, dude, I haven't talked to you in like months-"

"It's been two days." Trey said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh...well..." Adrian seemed to flounder for a moment, "huh, really?"

"Yes. However since you were obviously completely wasted and crying over some chick named Sasha dumping you, I think it's best we both forget it ever happened."

Considering the hour he'd spent listening to the rambles of a drunken Trickster at the ungodly hour of 2 in the morning, Trey wasn't feeling very charitable toward Adrian. He had his own troubles to deal with, dammit.

"Oh," Adrian said again, having the grace to sound contrite, "Sorry?"

"Yeah, whatever." He hoped the other had suffered the mother of all headaches the next day. It took a whole hell of a lot of liquor to affect a Trickster. Adrian had probably emptied out whatever seedy bar he'd picked to have his post break-up bender.

Trey was ready to end the conversation with some lame excuse, but Adrian took the momentary lull as a sign of a sympathetic ear. "So, Sasha dumped me. I mean, I know I should have expected it, but I figured that we were just going through a phase..." And off he went, spilling his woes.

Trey sighed. He didn't have the time for this. Dean could come out anytime now expecting him to have some kind of plan for his next move. And he had jack.

He'd overheard most of Dean's conversation to his friend Bobby, but the hunter hadn't elaborated on what his great idea was to keep his brother oblivious. Trey still couldn't fathom why the hell the stubborn idiot was so dead against telling Sam. Seriously, how hard could it be to just talk to each other?

'Sam, I'm a woman.' he'd say. Sure the brother might freak a little, but those two dealt with supernatural shit every day. He'd finally tell him, 'Don't worry Dean, we'll get through this together, as a family. We should use this opportunity that was given to work out our problems.' Dean would realize Sam's logic, 'You're right, this is a blessing in disguise, lets have that heart to heart that we've needed for months.'And voila! All would be right with them again.

_It would have worked so perfectly, _Trey thought wistfully.He suddenly became aware that Adrian was still talking.

"So, she said 'Adrian, I'm tired of all this going out and making mischief thing you're doing. Either you stop or I'm leaving.' and I'm like 'Darlin I'm a Trickster, it's what I do. I can't stop causing chaos and mayhem anymore than you can stop drinking blood.' So she packed up her bags and moved out. Typical vampire. You know what they say; can't live with them and can't kill them either

Trey had enough of his cousins rambling, "Shut up! Please, please stop talking. I have my own problems right now, Adrian. Serious, life-and-death type problems."

Adrian halted, and a few blessed moments of silence ensued before without missing a beat he began talking again, "Amy catch you blood spell casting again? Man, what have I told you! You can't let her run all over you like that. Stand up for yourself, like I did with Sasha...just tell her 'Baby, I'm a..."

"She left you after you said that!"

"...and it's what I do." Adrian finished, not listening, "Amy just needs to chill, it's not like you're hurting anybody. You've got like the most constricting wish-granting gift ever. You ask a question and they answer it. If they don't mean what they say, it doesn't work. What's the worst you could do to someone?"

Trey grimaced, but didn't take the bait. "I mean it, Adrian. I don't have time for this. Why are you even calling me?"

"Tonight was Sasha and mine's turn to host couples game night. So now I'm here all by my lonesome watching the three other happy couples laugh and play scrabble in my livingroom, eating _my_ chips. Penny and Dave - you remember them, the werewolves from Cheyenne?- are all lovey-dovey, it's really disgusting. I guess I'm lucky that Carissa and Jesse didn't come, ever since she became pregnant those two don't seem to know the meaning of discretion, they can't keep there hands off each other-."

"I get the idea," Trey cut him short. A thought occurred to him, "Wait, Carissa Mallory?"

"Yeah, why, you know her?"

"Amy went to visit her for the week, help her out with the baby."

"Well, I guess you're in luck then buddy, cause your woman will probably be surprising you with an early return."

"What do you mean?" Trey's stomach dropped.

"Carissa's mother-in-law came into town a few days earlier than expected. Her and Jesse were whining about how all their friends and anyone within 5 miles of their house decided to leave ten minutes into her visit. Something about the continual screeching..."

"I think she's a banshee, Adrian." Trey commented, his mind all in a whirl. Amy wasn't at her friend's house? Then where was she?

Whether it a strange coincidence or some deity's attempt to answer his question, the door to the apartment suddenly opened and Amy walked in.

"Shit!" Trey body went into auto-pilot and he threw himself over and behind the futon. For the first time he was actually happy to have the piece of furniture. He crouched down and pressed the cellphone against his ear again. "Shit, shit, shit!" Trey repeated in a whisper.

"What is it!" Adrian's alarmed voice sounded.

He heard Amy shuffling into the livingroom, "Trey, honey, are you here?"

"Amy's home," He hissed.

"So?"

"So...that is bad. Seriously, life and death type bad."

"Why."

Trey wasn't the kind of person the immediately buckle under pressure, but he was under a lot of stress - nobody had the right to judge him for just saying what the problem was, "Because there's a woman in the bedroom."

There was complete and utter shocked silence for a moment. "I hope you're joking." Adrian finally said.

"No, believe me I wish I were." he said miserably.

"Then I guess now is as good a time as any for me to hang up."

"What! Wait..."

"Dude, there's nothing in this world or the next that would make me suffer through another woman's screaming rants. I feel your pain, I really do. If you need a place to stay for a while or drinking buddy, I'm here for you. Call me if you're still alive." With that last bit of encouragement, Adrien hung up and Trey was left completely alone with his wife.

Facing the inevitable, he reluctantly popped his face up and over the futon and tried to smile, "Hi honey, welcome home."

- - supernatural - -

Amy was not a happy woman. This week was supposed to have been a week of relaxation and vacation. Okay, technically she was really going to help Carissa with her new baby. Her friend had practically begged her to come and meet the newest addition and even though Amy wasn't the cuddly, 'oh look it's a baby how cute' type of person, she'd given in. It had actually been an almost enjoyable experience. And she'd learned that she didn't really mind the little things known as infants- except for the diaper changing part which was the grossest thing she'd ever seen in her life. But it all had been rudely been interrupted by Carissa's banshee mother-in-law.

Amy cursed the man who'd caused the disruption in her vacation by dying earlier than expected. Apparently James Cavanagh had a heart attack immediately after the banshee tried to warn him of his impending death in three days. The bastard...

Not that she could truly blame the man. Spending more than a few seconds with Diedre Mallory was enough the make anyone want to die just to get away from her. One minute listening to the woman's ear-exploding 'talking', if one could even call it that, and Amy made a hurried escape.

She'd spent the last six hours riding in the back of a bus, two of which also included an overly friendly man invading personal space.

Suffice to say, she had a lot of tension that she needed to work off. And she knew exactly how.

Making a quick stop in the public restrooms at the bus stop, Amy quickly changed her face and outfit. It wasn't really cold enough outside to warrant the scarf, but it would keep anyone from looking too closely at her face.

She walked out onto the street and was immediately knocked to the ground by a teenager not paying attention. He at least had the manners to apologize and help her up. But in the process the scarf was knocked out of place.

The young man's eyes widened, "Y..you're you... how... what... Ang-" he barely managed to stutter out.

Amy rolled her eyes in annoyance. Great. She put on her best terror-inspiring glare on him, which proved effective as he quailed under it. "Yes, I know. Now get out of my sight. Shoo." She used her hands to emphasize the words and he scampered off, pausing only once to look at her again. Amy turned the death glare on again and was gratified with a hasty out and out run.

She smiled. Wow, maybe it was the effect of her new outfit, but that had made her day a bit brighter. Ahhh, there was nothing like watching people run in terror...

She continued on her more merrier way.

It was only a few minutes walk to the apartment. She frowned at the sight of a large black car parked in hers and Trey's lot. Damn neighbors. Probably the new guy who lived across the hall and his mistress. Amy made a mental note to have a 'talking to' with him later.

Deciding to let it go for now though, Amy made her way up to their apartment. As much as she was annoyed at her vacation plans being vaporized, she was happy to be back home.

Which was why she had decided to celebrate her and Trey's 50th anniversary earlier than she'd expected. She'd been planning this for the last couple weeks; studying magazines, watching movies, gathering all the information she needed. Amy was ready for a night that hopefully she and Trey would never forget.

Fluffing her dark brown hair till it sat perfectly around her face, Amy stuck the key into the lock and opened the door. She frowned when Trey wasn't sitting on the futon watching television like he usually was during the late evening. He loved that damn futon. . .

Shutting the door behind her, Amy walked over to the kitchen, quietly pouring two glasses of wine, before shuffling back into the livingroom. "Trey, honey, are you here?"

There was a long pause of silence, and just when the tall female was beginning to think her evening plans were also about to be ruined, she saw her husband pop up from behind the futon, smiling with cell-phone in hand. "Hi honey, welcome home."

Amy relaxed, happy that perhaps her new wardrobe wasn't a waste. She walked forward and handed Trey one of the large glasses of wine, taking a sip of her own before asking. "Who were you on the phone with?"

Trey seemed to pale a shade, though he quickly pulled himself back together. "I was, uh, ordering a pizza."

"Really?" Amy felt relieved. She had been worried that it was going to be Adrian. Whiny little husband's bastard cousin would have ruined her surprise return for sure. "Sounds good to me."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." She purred softly, leaning down toward the futon, till she was nuzzling Trey's neck. "You haven't said anything about my new outfit yet. You like?" She stood up and spun around seductively.

Trey gulped. "You look wonderful, Amy."

Amy laughed, swirling her finger lightly in her drink. "I know." Mentally she congratulated herself on an outfit well chosen. She'd had such a hard time deciding between this and Jennifer.

Trey seemed to be paralyzed. Well that was no good. She needed him to be very active tonight.

"You stay here, Trey." She said softly, running her fingers down his shoulder and arm. "I'll get the bedroom ready."

Trey remained motionless as she ridded herself of her scarf and sauntered to their room.

Not paying much attention as she entered her and Trey's room, she missed the fact she wasn't alone for longer than she should have. But her mind was already debating whether to strip down to her lingerie now or wait for Trey to join her. She'd just decided on now when she finally looked over. And froze as she encountered the wide eyes of another woman.

Well, that didn't make any sense. This was her bedroom. Her mind took a few minutes to try to piece together some kind of reason she was seeing this. Amy did not like what she came up with. Her eyes narrowed.

"Angelina Jolie!" For her part the woman in front of her obviously was as surprised to see her as Amy was. It took her a moment for her mind to figure out what the blonde was talking about. Oh, right. Her outfit.

Trey chose the perfect moment to come running into the room, a panicked look on his face. Oh, yeah, he better be afraid. This was looking very bad for him. Amy was not the kind to put up with this sort of thing from her man. She'd thought that had been made clear when his ex-girlfriend Amber wound up with a black-eye when she'd tried to remain 'friends' with Trey.

She turned on him, eyebrow's raised in disbelief. Yes, he was a man, but she'd truly expected more from him, ""Would you mind telling me, _husband_, what this woman is doing in our room?"

Amy looked back over at the little blonde who dared to be in her bedroom and then realized... "And in MY clothes." She was beyond outraged at that.

"I..I can explain r-really..." He stuttered miserably.

She ignored him. Her anger was focused on the woman who had taken over her man, bedroom, and clothes. The clothes were the last straw. She snapped.

SLAP

Large green eyes stared up at her in shock, "Did you just _slap_ me?!"

Had she? Wow, that was almost like an out of body experience. Not that she felt the least bit guilty, the bitch deserved it.

She heard Trey's voice behind her, "Wait, honey, it's not what it looks like!"

"Save it," She snarled, eyes still locked on blondie, "I know exactly what was going on in here. And I'm not going to stand for some bimbo trying to get her hands on my man. Prepare to get your ass kicked to tomorrow, slut."

Amy had expected the other woman to be intimidated, but instead her eyes glittered challengingly. Blondie shifted her body into a fighting stance and beckoned, "Bring it on bitch."

- - supernatural - -

The fight lasted longer than Dean had imagined it would. It was taking a while to get used to his smaller more compact body, but Dean was still the same trained hunter he'd been hours earlier. He figured that he could take Angelina Jolie down with no problem.

Unfortunately he had no experience with girl fights. Dean'd been expecting punches and kicks. Instead the first attack involved fistfuls of hair being painfully pulled. He automatically reciprocated, grabbing the long brown locks of his opponent and tugging. Twin shrieks filled the air. Was that him? Good god, he sounded like a girl. This was freakin humiliating.

The woman finally let go and grabbed at his hands, trying to get him to release her hair. Dean gladly let go and rubbed his head. Ouch! He really wanted this long hair gone. It was obviously a hazard during a fight. Occupied by his hair follicles protests at the rough treatment, Dean was taken off guard when Angelina suddenly pushed him.

_Shit, this woman is strong_. Dean thought as he flew back into the dresser.

He threw his hand out and grabbed the nearest thing to use as a weapon and hit Jolie with it. Unfortunately it was some kind of fugly vase and it shattered immediately, softening the blow but still momentarily stunning her.

He used the small window of opportunity to his advantage. Dean got up and launched himself at her, driving the woman backward. She stumbled over something, probably the bra Dean dropped earlier, and they fell heavily onto the king-size bed in the middle of the room.

After that it was almost a wrestling match. Dean had the vantage position on top before she suddenly grabbed with both hand at his chest and _pulled_... holy fucking shit! He lost the upper hand as he fell to the side, hands coming up to protect himself.

Angelina jumped onto Dean, straddling him, face twisted up in fury.

He groaned in frustration, _Oh, com'on, this isn't even fair. My number one fantasy has finally come true, and I can't even enjoy it._ He bucked underneath her, but couldn't seem to unseat the stubborn bitch.

Her hands wrapped themselves around his neck and started to squeeze. Dean's hands flopped around, trying to find something to dislodge her but coming up with nothing. He could feel his face turning red, his lungs desperately begging for air. Just when he realized he might actually have to face the possibility that _Angelina Jolie _was going to be the one to kill him, Trey finally grew a pair and got involved.

The grey-eyed man hooked his arms around Angelina and pulled her off, leaving Dean gasping for breath. "Okay, that's enough. Amy, you've got to let me explain."

"I've got nothing to say to you- you cheating bastard."

Dean jumped off the bed and put as much distance between him and the squirming woman as he could. He rubbed his sore neck, "Crap, Trey, Angelina Jolie is freakin nuts!"

Trey was still struggling with the brunette, who was now cursing as she tried to get loose, "This isn't Angelina Jolie, she's my wife!"

Dean blinked, _wow, I really didn't see that coming_, "Wha...but how?"

"Amy's a shape-shifter."

_Well, that explained so much. Thank god._ Dean had been momentarily considering that maybe he'd finally lost it.

Trey was holding his wife back, trying to calm her down, "Listen, baby. I _promise_ that this isn't what it looks like. I'm not cheating on you with another woman."

Amy stilled for a moment, as if considering his words. Her head jerked toward Dean, "Then who is _she_?"

"He." Dean muttered incoherently under his breath.

Amy narrowed her eyes at him. "What?"

"My name is Dean and I'm a _he_." Dean said louder, still rubbing his scalp gingerly. "Nice to meet you." The last part was obvious sarcasm and was not missed by anybody in the room.

Amy shifted her glare to her husband. "What is she talking about?"

Trey, still holding on to his wife tightly (just in case), stuttered nervously, unsure how to go about explaining all this ridiculousness to her. "Amy, honey. . . uh dear- sweetheart. . . you see-"

Dean decided to take the initiative in this one. "Your husband there decided that he was going to 'help' me and accidently turned me into a woman. Believe me, sex never even entered the equation." Yes, he could have put it more eloquently, spent time explaining it thoroughly, but honestly he didn't want to.

Trey sighed inwardly. Of course Dean would be frank about this whole thing with his wife. Couldn't say it that straight to his brother though right? Of course not. . .

There was a deafening silence as Amy took that in. Then she twisted around to look at Trey, a scowl on her face, "Goddamn it, Trey. What did I tell you about doing your blood spells?"

He flushed, "Uhh... not to?"

"That's right. You know why? Because this is what happens." She sniffed, appearing to be filled with self-righteousness, "I told you. One day someone was going to make a stupid, idiotic wish and then you were going to pay for your wish-granting ways."

"Awww...comon, you know I can't see people in trouble and not help."

"Umm, just for clarification purposes, turning me into a woman was in no way helping me." Dean chimed in. He ignored Trey's fervent glare, instead looking over at Amy and tried to give his best imitation of Sam's puppy dog eyes. While nowhere near his brothers skill level, it was enough. Amy melted.

"You poor thing! Trey, how could you do this to her...him?"

"Wha...Amy I didn't mean..."

"Yes, yes. You never _mean_ to do this sort of thing. It just magically 'happens'"

"Technically majik was sort of involved..."

"Didn't you ever stop to think of the consequences of turning him into a woman?"

"What makes you think I knew he was going to say something like that? Besides, he's the one who said it. Why am I the one being hung for idiocy." Trey could tell by both Amy and Dean's faces that he was in no way going to get out of this.

"I was practically drunk." Dean argued. "And how was I supposed to know you were some goodie, goodie trying to fill your good deed quota for the month?"

Trey felt a small flame of anger spike through him at the condemning accusations. "I thought you hunters were required to always expect the unexpected." He didn't catch his slip till his wife went completely still.

Amy's eyes got wide, glancing back at Dean then once more to her husband eyes flaring. "You brought a hunter home?" She hissed. "You brought a _hunter_ to our _house_?" Her disbelief was palpable.

Trey shrunk back a little ways and Dean felt tug of guilt at getting him in trouble with his wife. He then looked down at himself and the guilt was gone.

Amy whirled on Dean. "Why are you really here?"

"Are you kidding me?" Dean asked. "I want my body back!"

The Angie look-alike bit her lip. "That's it? You're not hunting Trey and me?"

"I didn't even know you were here till the bar." Dean admitted.

She looked back at her husband before stepping forward. "So if Trey can fix this. . . You'll leave us alone? You won't tell other hunters about us?"

Dean thought about that offer seriously.

Trey quickly blurted out. "We're not evil."

Amy rolled her eyes and Dean didn't really care. "Yeah. It's a deal."

Amy held out her hand and Dean took it, but just as the shifter tried to break the connection Dean held on tighter, pulling her close to him. "It's a deal. But if I hear of either you or your husband doing anything other than party tricks, I'm coming back for you."

Amy pulled her hand away and nodded.

Trey chose that moment to speak again. "So, how you want to do this?"

- -supernatural- -

The Next Morning

Something wasn't right. Sam knew it the moment his eyes opened. Over the years he'd developed a sort of sixth sense when it came to trouble. At times he worried about whether it had anything to do with his demonic connection however other times he was just glad to have it.

He looked over to the bed on his left, the instinctive reaction to find Dean. It was empty, looking exactly as it had before Sam went to asleep.

Sam frowned and sat up. Dean should have been back by now. His brother might live the life of the party these days but he was always back by early morning. And it was...

He checked the clock. It was 8 am and no Dean in sight.

Sam sighed and dragged himself out from under the covers. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, he considered what to do next. His eyes fell on his cellphone setting out next to the laptop. That was as good a start as any.

He pushed the speed-dial for Dean's cellphone and waited for it to ring. It went straight to voicemail. Sam's frown deepened. Dean didn't turn off his phone, especially when they were out of physical contact.

Sam left a short and to-the-point message. "Dean, where are you? You better have a good reason for staying out so late."

He ended the call with an irritated jab. Sam wasn't sure whether to be worried or pissed. Dean didn't just drop off the grid for no reason. But the young hunter had to admit that with his brother reasons could range from being passed out drunk outside a bar - a rare but occasional occurrence - to dying in a ditch somewhere - sadly, also an occasional event.

Sam wavered a moment, weighing his limited options. He could either wait for Dean's late return or go out and find him. He snorted in bitter amusement. Since when had waiting ever worked?

Sam grabbed his jacket and opened the motel door...only to be stopped short at the sight in front of him.

The Impala in all her gleaming dark beauty was parked in front of their motel room. The rising sun made the black paint job shine proudly. Which made no sense because the car was supposed to be with Dean...who wasn't there as far as Sam could see.

Same moved to get a better look inside the Impala. Half expecting to find Dean passed out in the front seat he was disappointed to find it unoccupied. However his gaze was caught by a small piece of paper folded into the wheel of the car. He squinted to find any writing and could barely make out the word _Sam_ scrawled in one corner.

He tried to open the door and wasn't surprised to find it locked. Sam hesitated a moment, but he needed to find out what it said. He went back inside the room and opened up his duffel bag, searching for the lock-picking kit he kept with him always.

Sam was walking back outside when his foot connecting with something on the floor just inside the doorway. He bent and reached down to pick up a small white envelope. Just like the paper in the car it had his name written on it. This time Sam was able to recognize it as Dean's handwriting. He opened up the envelope and spilled it's contents into his hand. It took a moment for him to comprehend what he was looking at.

It was the keys to the Impala.

Sam's fingers closed and tightened over the metal. He stood still for a moment, trying to figure out the implications then ran outside. Unlocking and opening the door to Dean's most prized possession, Sam snatched the paper from the wheel and unfolded it.

_Sam,_

_I've been thinking about what you said at the bar and you're right, maybe we need to take a break. Spend some time away from each other. I found another job for me, nothing too dangerous. I promise not to do anything stupid and I'll tell you if I get in over my head. I called Bobby and he said you can go stay at his place while I'm gone. I'll meet up with you there once I'm done. _

_Take care of yourself, bro. I'll see you soon,_

_Dean _

_PS: I'm trusting you with the Impala, dude. Don't betray that trust or you'll be on detail duty for the rest of my life._

The sheet of paper crumpled against Sam's fury and fell down onto the ground. His cellphone was already in hand a again, Dean's number punched in, and ringing. This time when voicemail kicked in, Sam had a lot more to say.

"Dean! What the hell are you thinking! This is completely stupid, childish even. Yes, Dean I said _childish_. Immature, infantile. You're running away over a small argument?" He paused to take a breathe and rubbed his fingers against his forehead. He could already feel the start of a headache beginning. "Damn it, Dean, you can't do this to me now. When you get this message you better turn your ass right back around and get back here." He left off an 'or else' considering it to be an understood nonverbal message.

Sam ended the call. He resisted taking his frustration on the nearest object, the Impala, and settled for kicking a loose piece of gravel on the ground. It bounced and hit the car three doors down with a small satisfying _thunk_.

He was at a loss as to what he should do next. A part of him said 'go drag Dean back by the scruff of his neck'. Actually most of him thought that was a good idea.

Unfortunately Sam didn't have any idea where to find his prodigal brother.

Sam bit his lip, an outward sign of the indecision churning in his head. He bulked at the thought of just obediently trotting off to Bobby's. What did Dean expect him to do there? Sit by the window and gaze out, waiting for his older brothers promised return like a faithful dog expecting it's master to come back?

_Why is Dean doing this?_ It bothered Sam more than he could understand. Sure they'd had an argument, but they had those all the time like people who spend all their time together normally do.

It hadn't been that bad of one, not even a real fight, just some harsh words. Ones that Sam hadn't truly meant. The last thing he wanted was less communication with his brother, damn it. Instead he'd managed to convince Dean of the exact opposite and his brother decided to go AWOL. _Great, just freakin perfect. Way to go, Sam._ He congratulated himself, sighing in frustration.

There wasn't much Sam could do at the moment, not without having a clue where Dean was. The note said the older hunter had found himself a hunt, and that thought made his stomach clench with worry. It wasn't that he didn't know Dean hunted solo while he had been at college and was perfectly capable of handling himself in dangerous situations, but Sam hated the idea of nobody being around to watch Dean's back in case things went bad. The last time that had happened, Dean ended up tied to a tree and being offered to a pagan scarecrow god. Of course that had only occurred because Sam had left him to do the job alone.

Sam winced at the memory. He'd taken off, forcing Dean to drive off without him, because of an argument with his brother over following Dad's orders. Shit, what comes around goes around...

A sharp pain in his hands brought Sam back to reality. He looked down and realized that the impala keys were digging into his palm, nearly drawing blood. Unclenching the fists he'd unconsciously formed, Sam pocketed the keys.

Checking his watch, he realized that checkout for the motel room was almost up. Originally the Winchester's had been planning to get back on the road early in morning. Sam guessed that plan had long past been changed. He wondered when exactly Dean had left the letter and Impala. Probably late last night, while Sam had been blissfully unaware of what stupid stunt his brother was about to pull.

Knowing that he was getting nowhere just standing next to the car like an idiot, Sam forced himself into action. He returned inside the motel room and began grabbing his bags. Dean's things were nowhere to be found, causing him to wonder how the older hunter had managed to pull that off. Then Sam remembered that his brother had already packed his carryall bag the other day before they'd gone to the bar. It had been in the back of the Impala. How convenient, Sam thought sourly.

He threw his stuff into the impala and went into the front office to return the room keys and check out. Sam barely managed being civil to young man behind the desk and quickly returned to the car. He got behind the wheel.

Sam was frustrated beyond belief, not really sure what to do. At this point the only point of contact he had was Dean's promise to meet up at Bobby's.

_Okay, Dean_. He thought. _I'm going to Bobby's, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you off that easy._

Sam started the engine and left the parking lot, heading for Singer's junkyard.

- - supernatural - -

Thankfully, getting to Bobby's had been relatively smooth and eventless. A rare occurrence to be sure. Sam couldn't even think of the last time he or Dean had gone to their fellow hunter's home without being in some sort of trouble.

Wiping his feet hurriedly on what was probably once a welcome mat, Sam knocked on the front door and waited.

A moment later the door opened. Having expected to be greeted by Bobby, Sam was a little surprised to be staring down at the blond woman looking back up at him. "Where's Bobby?" He blurted out then flushed as she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over the black t-shirt she was wearing.

"Where's Sam?" She answered his question with one of her own.

"Uh, I'm Sam." He said humbly.

"Yeah, I don't think so." The woman argued. "Cause the Sam I heard about was an over polite geek giant, and even though you got the geek giant right I'm not seeing any polite." She raised her eyebrow again.

Sam stood there, messenger bag hanging limply in his grasp, not sure what to say.

That's when she punched him. "I'm kidding. It's a joke Sam, I know who you are."

"You do?" Sam asked, now a little confused.

"Yeah." She informed him, a slightly impish grin on her face. "Bobby said you'd be staying here for a few days while he was out of town." She pushed the door open completely and waved him in. "Come'on."

"Oh. . . okay." He cautiously walked into his friend's home, clutching his duffel with both hands, unsure what to do now. This was not how Sam thought it was going to after reading his brother's letter. _Bobby_ was supposed to be here, not some wise-cracking blond.

"Go ahead and put your bag in the guest room." She told him, snapping his attention back to her.

"So, who are you?" He finally asked.

"Oh, right. Who am I." She repeated as if a little unsure. "I'm Bobby's niece. The name's. . . Dani."

- -supernatural- -

Dean watched Sam walk over to the guest room that the Winchester brothers had used more than once in the last year. He allowed himself a self satisfied smile once his brother's back was completely turned, followed by a mental celebratory fist pump as he closed the front door behind the two of them.

Everything was working perfectly.

_Headquarters, this is Big Brother. I'm in and we're clear. I repeat, Operation: Fooling Sammy is a go._

- -supernatural- -

A/N: Whew. I know it was a ridiculously long wait, but I hope it was worth it. I also apologize that you had to wade thru so much of my OCs' perspectives. Both Trey and Amy refused to let me write Dean and Sam until they got some time in the spotlight. I considered cutting it out, but honestly couldn't bear to delete. I hope they weren't too boring. Chances are they won't be showing up again for a long time- minus of course Trey still trying to fix this whole mess he started.

I think now would be a good time to quickly add that under no circumstances will this fic have Wincest. Just thought that should be made clear considering that Sam doesn't know Dani is really Dean.

Reviews are loved and treasured almost as much as dark chocolate M&M's.  And for those of you that celebrate the holiday: Happy Easter!

Kerri B.


End file.
